DEATH-BED SCENES. 



WASHINGTON, D. C. 

DEATH-BED SCENES; 



OB, 



DYING WITH AND WITHOUT RELIGION: 



DESIGNED TO ILLUSTRATE 



THE TRUTH AND POWER OF CHRISTIANITY. 



EDITED BY 



Warn* llV Clark. \B. tD 



PUBLISHED BY LANE & SCOTT, 

20 Mul berry- street. 
JOSEPH LONG KING. PRINTER. 

1851. 









Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by 

G. LANE & L. SCOTT, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of 

New-York. 



Gift 

Judge and Mrs.lsaac R.Hltt 
July 6, 1931 



PREFACE. 



This volume ernes its origin to a season of calamity. 
While the cholera was raging in the city of New- York 
during the summer of 1849, the author was called to 
witness a great variety of " death-bed scenes." At the 
same time his own health was too much shaken to admit 
of any severe literary pursuit. Under those circum- 
stance^ the work was suggested to his mind as one 
likely to subserve a useful purpose; and during that 
season most of the material for the work was collected 
and arranged. Since then, it has occupied the hours 
of respite from more imperious duties, in revision and 
preparation for the press. In now presenting it to the 
public, the author would express the hope that it may 
promote the great interests of true religion. 

The selection of examples has been made with great 
care, from a wide range, so far as age, place, avocation, 
condition, character, and opinions are concerned. It has 
been the aim of the author to give a condensed view of 
the character and life of each individual, as preparatory 
to the delineation of the closing scene. Everything ex- 
traneous has been carefully excluded. The subjects 
naturally range themselves into two classes ; and to 
correspond with this, the work has been divided into two 



6 PREFACE. 

parts, one picture exhibiting the close of a life of righte- 
ousness, the other of a life of sin. Part first — The 
Dying Christian — comprises six sections under the 
following heads: — Christian Martyrs — Christian Min- 
isters — Christian Men — Christian Women — Christian 
Children and Youth — Dying Regrets of Worldly- 
minded Professors. Part second — Dying Without 
Religion — comprises five sections, as follows: — The 
Dying Sinner — The Dying Backslider — The Dying 
Persecutor — The Dying Infidel — Insensibility in the 
Hour of Death. Under each of these heads the most 
striking and instructive examples that have occurred are 
presented ; the whole forming the most complete array 
of facts ever embodied in any one work, on a subject of 
universal and most weighty concern. 

D. W. Clark. 

POUGHKEEPSIE, N. Y., 

Sept. 1, 1851. 









CONTENTS, 



PART I. 

®f)* 3§2tnjj Ctmttart. 

Section I. — The Christian Martyrs. 

Christian Martyrs Page 25 

1. Our Lord Jesus Christ 27 

2. St. Stephen 33 

3. Ignatius 36 

4. Symphorsa and her Sons 37 

5. Polycarp 38 

6. Justin Martyr 39 

7. Epipodius and Alexander 40 

8. Vivia Perpetua 42 

9. Blandina 45 

10. Laurentius 47 

11. Julian of Cilicia 48 

12. Cyprian of Carthage 49 

13. John Huss 51 

14. Jerome of Prague 56 

15. Esch and Voes 60 

16. Henry Zuphten 63 

17., The two Wirths 66 

18. John Leclerc 70 

19. Schuch 73 

20. The Hermit of Livry 75 

21. John Lambert 77 

22. Ann Askew ; 80 

23. Adam Wallace 84 

24. Hugh Laverick and John Aprice 86 

25. Bishops Ridley and Latimer 87 

26. Archbishop Cranmer 91 



8 CONTENTS. 

27. John Rogers Page 97 

28. Lawrence Saunders KM 

29. John Hooper, Bishop of Worcester and Gloucester 105 

30. Dr, Rowland Taylor 108 

31. Mr. Thomas Tomkins 112 

32. Mr. Thomas Haukes 113 

33/Mr. Christopher Waid 114 

34. Mr. Dirick Carver 115 

35. Mr. Robert Glover 116 

36. Mr. John Philpot 117 

37. Mrs. Cicely Ormes 120 

38. Mr. Thomas Hudson 120 

39. Lord Viscount Winceslaus 122 

40. Lord Harant 122 

41. Sir Gasper Kaplitz 123 

42. Mr. Christopher Chober 124 

43. Rev. George Wishart 124 

44. Hugh McKail 129 

45. Monsieur Homel 130 

46. A Negro Martyr 132 

Section II. — Ministers of the Gospel. 

1. Risdon Darracott 133 

2. Edward Payson, D. D 140 

3. Richard Baxter 148 

4. Dr. Doddridge 150 

5. John Wesley 157 

6. Richard Watson 167 

7. Rev. W. Day 170 

8. Mr. M'Laren, of Edinburgh 171 

9. Dr. Henry Peckwell 171 

10. Bernard Gilpin 172 

11. Henry Martyn 175 

12. Rev. Thomas Scott 181 

13. Richard Cecil 186 

14. Claudius Buchanan 189 

15. Rev. R. Hall 195 

16. Rev. John Ely 197 

17. Rev. Dr. Hamilton 199 

18. Rev. David Simpson 200 

19. Dr. Wilbur Fisk 205 

20. Rev. S. B. Bangs 211 



CONTENTS. 9 

21. John Fletcher Page 213 

22. Dr. Isaac Watts 218 

23. Rev. Charles Wesley 220 

24. The Venerable Bede 222 

25. Rev. Charles Simeon 224 

26. Matthew Henry 225 

27. Rev. A. M. Toplady 226 

28. Ziegenbalg 228 

29. John Elliot 230 

30. Thomas Tregoss 232 

31. Joseph Alleine 233 

32. James Hervey 238 

33. Dr. Donne 243 

34. Christian F. Swartz 243 

35. Jeremiah Evarts 245 

36. Rev. W. Thorp..... 245 

37. Bishop Bedell 248 

38. John Knox 253 

39. Robert Bruce 253 

40. Samuel Rutherford 254 

41. Dr. Wm. P. Chandler 255 

42. Wm. Romaine 257 

43. An Aged Minister 257 

Section III. — Christian Men. 

1. Robert Boyle 258 

2. John Howard 260 

3. Curaens, a German Physician 263 

4. Sir William Jones 264 

5. Sir Philip Sidney 265 

6. Lord Teignmouth 267 

7. Joseph Addison 270 

8. George Moir 273 

9. John Holland 273 

10. Boerhaave 275 

11. Sir Matthew Hale 277 

12. John Locke 279 

13. Joseph Hardcastle 282 

14. Sir Walter Raleigh .• 284 

15. Louis IX., King of France 288 

16. Blaise Pascal 290 

17. Louis, Duke of Orleans 291 

I* 



10 CONTENTS. 

18. Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton Page 293 

19. Sir Isaac Newton 294 

20. Dr. James Hope 297 

21. Lord Harrington 298 

22. Petumber 299 

23. Ferrao 300 

24. " Me," a Blind Warrior 301 

25. Donald Morrison 304 

26. Lord William Russell 307 

27. Lord Bacon 307 

28. John Welch 308 

29. Bergerus 308 

30. Zuniger 309 

31. Lieut. Daniel Murray 309 

32. Col. David Mack 313 

33. Dr. T. W. Cowgill 314 

Section IV. — Christian Women. 

1. Harriet Newell... 319 

2. Hannah More 331 

3. Felicia Hemans 334 

4. Charlotte Elizabeth 337 

5. Mrs. Elizabeth Fry 339 

6. Elizabeth Mortimer 341 

7. Hannah Housman 349 

8. Elizabeth Rowe 353 

9. JaneRatcliff 356 

10. Lady Rachel Russell 359 

11. Queen Mary 361 

12. Lady Jane Grey 364 

13. Jane, Queen of Navarre 368 

14. Countess of Huntingdon 369 

15. Mrs. Legare 372 

16. Lady Elizabeth Hastings 373 

17. Margaretta Klopstock 375 

18. Mrs. Fletcher 384 

19. Mrs. Would 387 

20. Catharine Bretterg 388 

21. Mrs. Elizabeth James 389 

22. Agnes Morris, a poor Negro Woman 391 

23. A Negro Slave in Antigua 392 

24. Anna Maria Schurman 394 



CONTENTS. 11 

25. A Young Woman Page 396 

26. Isabella Graham 397 

27. Mrs. Mary Francis 399 



Section V. — Christian Children and Youth. 

1. Wilberforce Richmond 402 

2. Eliza M 408 

3. Eliza Cunningham 412 

4. Ellen Foulds 419 

5. Sophia Trentham 422 

6. The Little Boy's Last Prayer 423 

7. Mary Frances Right 424 

8. "I have a Great High Priest " 425 

9. Son of the Duke of Hamilton 426 

10. The Dying Miner Boy 427 

11. The Mountain Boy 428 

12. Spiritual Recognitions 429 

13. "Franky" *. 430 



Section VI. — Dying Regrets of Worldly-Minded Professors. 

1. Cardinal Richelieu 434 

2. Cardinal Wolsey 435 

3. Csesar Borgia 437 

4. Hugo Grotius 437 

5. Sir John Mason 438 

6. Salmasius 439 

7. Pope Eugenius 440 

8. Cardinal Beaufort 441 

9. Dr. Johnson.... 442 

10. A Dying Nobleman 443 



12 CONTENTS. 

PART II. 

Section I. — The Dying Sinner. 

1. Louis XV., of France Page 449 

2. A Dying Follower of the World 450 

3. Lord Chesterfield 453 

4. Philip III., King of Spain 456 

5. Terrors of Death 457 

6. Sir Thomas Smith 460 

7. Duke of Buckingham 461 

8. A Sceptical Physician 463 

9. A Young Lady 464 

10. "IWon'tDie" 466 

11. Talleyrand 467 

12. John Nisbet 467 

13. Sir Thomas Scott 468 

14. William Emmerson 469 

15. Dying Without Hope 469 

16. Dying Regrets 473 

17. A Rich Man 474 

18. Louisa 475 

19. Madame De Pompadour 481 



Section II. — The Dying Backslider. 

1. William Pope 483 

2. The Mother of David Hume 493 

3. Death of an Aged Backslider 494 

4. The Apostate 498 

5. Peter Dean 503 

6. Francis Spira 504 

7. A Young Woman 507 



Section III. — The Dying Persecutor. 

1. Some of the Early Persecutors 510 

2. Death of several Persecutors in the Reign of Mary 511 

3. Maximin 514 



CONTENTS. # 13 

4. Galerius Page 515 

5. Julian the Apostate 517 

6. Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester 518 

7. George John Jeffreys 518 

8. Antiochus IV 519 

9. Philip II, of Spain 519 

10. Alexander Campbell 519 

11. Charles IX., of France 520 

12. Rockwood 521 

13. Bishop Bramble 522 

Section IV. — The Dying Infidel. 

1. Voltaire 523 

2. Thomas Paine 526 

3. Francis Newport .«. 529 

4. Servin 533 

5. Edward Gibbon 535 

6. Hobbes 536 

7. Diderot 537 

8. D'Alembert 537 

9. Madame Du Defiant 538 

10. A Dying Infidel _. 539 

11. Altamont 540 

12. Antitheus 542 

13. LordP 544 

Section V. — Insensibility in the Hour of Death. 

1. David Hume 546 

2. Eousseau 552 

3. Horace Walpole 554 

4. Frederic of Prussia 555 

5. Cardinal Mazarine 555 

6. Lord Byron 557 

7. Robert Burns 559 

8. Mirabeau 559 



INTRODUCTION. 



From the earliest ages the dying expressions of men 
have excited peculiar attention, and been preserved with 
peculiar care. Even the sacred Scriptures give their 
sanction to that feeling which would hallow the last 
words of the departed. How emphatic the record of 
the dying expressions of Abraham, Jacob, and Joseph ; 
of David, Elijah, and Elisha ; of Simeon, Stephen, and 
Paul ; and, above all, the dying expressions of our Lord 
himself! From whatever cause this desire to receive 
and to treasure up these dying expressions may arise, 
whether from the promptings of natural sympathy, from 
a simple desire to know their state of mind at the last 
moment, or from a presentiment that the dying receive 
a clearer revelation of truth and a supernatural insight 
into the future, it is scarcely necessary for us to inquire. 
Certain it is, that the patriarchs at that season were gifted 
with the divine power of prophecy, and foretold the 
destinies of their posterity. It seems, indeed, to have 
been a sentiment prevalent from the earliest antiquity, 
that the nearer men approach to their dissolution, the 
more spiritual do they become, and the greater insight 
do they have into the future. Thus the dying Socrates 
is represented as saying, that he is desirous of prophesy- 
ing to the Athenians what should afterwards happen ; 
"For," says he, "I am now arrived at that state in 
which men prophesy most, viz., when they are about to 
die." Xenophon, the Grecian historian, also represents 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

Cyrus as declaring, when at the point of death, " That 
the soul of man at that moment appears most divine, 
and then also foresees something of future events." 
Diodorus declares this to have been the opinion of the 
wise men of his, and of preceding ages. He also 
says, that " Pythagoras, the Samian, and others of the 
ancient naturalists, have demonstrated that the souls of 
men are immortal, and, in consequence of this opinion, 
that they also foreknow future events, at the time they 
are making their separation in death." Shakspeare, in 
the language he ascribes to the dying Percy, gives utter- 
ance to the same sentiment : — 

" 0, 1 could prophesy, 
But that the earthy and cold hand of death 
Lies heavy on my tongue." 

Schiller, a little before his death, with a reviving look, 
said, "Many things are becoming to me plainer and 
clearer." 

The idea that departing spirits, and especially the 
spirits of good men, receive supernatural manifestations, 
must often occur to those who are called to witness dying 
scenes, and who are accustomed to meditate thoughtfully 
upon them. Nor does any high improbability attach it- 
self to this idea. The dying linger for a moment upon 
the confines of both worlds ; and why may they not, 
when just leaving the one, catch some glimpses of the 
other ? 

" Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view 
Who stand upon the threshold of the new." 

In death the natural and the supernatural meet. The 
two worlds here bound upon each other. The saints of 
God are divinely prepared for their exit. Heaven was 
opened to the vision of the dying Stephen. Angels 
gathered around the dying Lazarus. It was divinely 
revealed to Peter, that he was shortly to put off the 
mortal tabernacle ; and to Paul, that he was shortly to 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

be offered up, and that the time of his departure was at 
hand. And is there not a large class of facts — some of 
which are recorded in this volume — which have a most 
obvious connexion with this general thought, and a most 
distinct and impressive bearing upon the relation that 
exists between the present and the eternal world and 
the revelations that may be made to the soul while in its 
transition state? Said a dying Sunday-school scholar 
from my flock, while in the very article of death, but 
with perceptive and reasoning powers still unimpaired, 
" The angels have come." The pious Blumhardt ex- 
claimed, " Light breaks in ! Hallelujah !" and expired. 
Dr. McLain said, " I can now contemplate clearly the 
grand scene to which I am going." Sargent, the biog- 
rapher of Martin, with his countenance kindled into a 
holy fervour, and his eye beaming with unearthly lustre, 
fixed his gaze as upon a definite object, and exclaimed, 
" That bright light !" and when asked what light, an- 
swered, " The light of the Sun of righteousness." The 
Lady Elizabeth Hastings, a little before she expired, 
cried out, with a beaming countenance and enraptured 
voice, "Lord, what is it that I see?" and Olympia 
Morata, an exile for her faith, as she sank in death, ex- 
claimed, " I distinctly behold a place filled with ineflable 
light!" Dr. Bateman, a distinguished physician and 
philosopher, died exclaiming, " What glory ! the angels 
are waiting for me !" In the midst of delirium, Bishop 
Wilson was transported with the vision of angels. Not 
unfrequently the mind is filled with the most strik- 
ing conceptions of the presence of departed friends. A 
most affecting instance of such " spiritual recognitions " 
is given in the subsequent pages of this volume. Most 
touching is the story of Carnaval, who was long known 
as a lunatic wandering about the streets of Paris. His 
reason had been unsettled by the early death of the ob- 
ject of his tender and most devoted affection. He could 



18 INTRODUCTION. 

never be made to comprehend that she was dead; but 
spent his life in the vain search for the lost object of his 
love. In most affecting terms he would mourn her 
absence, and chide her long delay. Thus life wore 
away ; and when its ebbing tide was almost exhausted, 
starting as from a long and unbroken revery, the counte- 
nance of the dying man was overspread with sud- 
den joy, and stretching forth his arms, as if he would 
clasp some object before him, he uttered the name of 
his long- lost love, and exclaiming, " Ah, there thou art 
at last!" expired. The aged Hannah More, in her 
dying agony, stretching out her arms as though she would 
grasp some object, uttered the name of a much-loved 
deceased sister, cried "Joy!" and then sank down into 
the arms of death. 

We are far, however, from thinking, with the poet 
philosopher, Young, that 

" Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die." 

For instances are not wanting which afford striking illus- 
trations of Pope's " ruling passion strong in death." 
Thus the dying warrior, when life and animation are 
almost extinct, may exclaim, " One charge more, my 
braves," and then sink in the conflict with his last foe. 
The cold speculatist, whose very heart has become 
seared and frozen by the ungenial abstractions that have 
puzzled and bewildered the intellect, dying, may still be 
absorbed in the thought, " I am now going to satisfy my 
curiosity on the principle of things, on space, on infinity, 
on being, on nothing." The drunkard, brought by dis- 
sipation to life's last hour, may resolve with his latest 
breath to " curse God and die drunk." The miser — 
who can better describe his " ruling passion " than Pope, 
himself? 

" ' I give and 1 devise/ old Enclio said, 
And sigh'd, ' my lands and tenements to Ned.' 



INTRODUCTION. 19 

* Your money, sir V ' My money, sir, what, all ? 
Why, if I must/ then wept, ' I give to Paul.' 
' The manor, sir V ' The manor ! hold V he cried, 
' Xot that — I cannot part with that V — and died." 

The " ruling passion strong in death " is drawn in 
another picture, equally true and graphic, by the same 
master hand : — 

" ' Odious ! in woollen ! 'twould a saint provoke V 
Were the last words that poor Xarcipsa spoke. 
4 Xo ! let a charming chintz and brussels lace 
Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face. 
One need not, sure, be frightful, though one's dead ; 
And, Betty, give my cheek a little red/ ;; 

The poor, frivolous, sceptical Rabelais, on his death-bed, 
said, "I am going to try the great Perhaps!" Anne 
Boleyn, the mistress of Henry VIII., vain of her finely- 
turned and beautiful neck, just before her execution said 
to the lieutenant of the Tower, " I hear that the execu- 
tioner is very good, and I have a little neck ;" at the 
same time clasping it with her hands and laughing. Sir 
Thomas More, equally vain of his beard, when he had 
laid his head upon the block, and the executioner was 
about to aim the blow of death, said to him, " Stay, 
friend, till I put aside my beard, for that never com- 
mitted treason." Fabre d'Eglantine, when preparing 
for the guillotine, only regretted that he was compelled 
to leave unpublished a comedy which he had written, 
and which he apprehended Vananes would publish as 
his own. Talma, the French tragedian, during his 
dying moments, continually called on the name of Vol- 
taire, as if he knew no other divinity. It is certainly 
possible, then, to hug one's delusion even in a dying 
hour — to die i; as dieth the fool." Nor, on the other 
hand, can we fully receive — though the exceptions are 
still more unfrequent — that expression of Augustine — 
"Non potest male mori, qui bene vixerit" — No man 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

can die ill who has lived well. For we believe it possi- 
ble, from some idiosyncrasy of the individual, some 
peculiarity of temperament, some peculiar effect of the 
physical malady, or even from some morbid state of the 
moral and religious feelings, for one who has lived well 
to die gloomy and wretched. The poet Cowper, though 
once possessed of the consolations of religion, afterwards 
became subject to despondency, which at length deepened 
into despair. He believed himself forsaken of God and 
destined to eternal ruin. This lamentable state of mind 
cast a gloomy shade over his later years, and it was 
hardly lifted up even at the closing scene of his life. 
When a friend sought to encourage him with the pros- 
pect of a speedy release from suffering, and of an entrance 
upon the glorified state, he besought him to desist; and 
the night of death as it was gathering around him seemed 
only to deepen the darkness of that delusion that had 
embittered his life. Yet no one could doubt the genuine- 
ness of his piety, or the security of his future state. 

These statements are not made to lessen in the mind 
the importance of the spiritual phenomena exhibited 
while in the dying state; but to guard against undue and 
improper reliance upon them, and to prepare the way for 
an inquiry into their true value. But to pass from these 
facts to the general conclusion, that the dying scene is 
unaffected by the moral and religious character, the past 
history, or the future prospects of the individual, would 
be unwarranted either by reason or facts. We might 
say that the state of the mind in the hour of death is not 
an infallible test of truth ; and even that it is not an in- 
fallible test of the religious state of the individual. The 
Hindoo widow will sit down with tranquil composure 
upon the funeral pyre ; and the Indian savage, while the 
fire of his enemies is kindling and burning around him, 
will hurl a frenzied exulting triumph in their teeth. But 
these were instances of minds acted upon by some 



INTRODUCTION. 21 

mighty impulse — a height of enthusiasm or an excite- 
ment of passion, that for the moment held in check every 
other instinct or impulse. A sublime exhibition of this 
was given in the Girondists who went forth to execution 
chanting their national hymn, and as one after another 
continued to fall under the blade of death, the others 
continued their song till the last victim was heard alone. 
Seneca truthfully said, that "Not only the brave and 
wretched, but even the fastidious can wish to die." And 
Lord Bacon, also, said, " Revenge triumphs over death ; 
love slights it ; honour aspires to it ; grief flies to it ; fear 
preoccupates it." But widely different are all these 
from the scenes of triumph exhibited by the Christian 
in the hour of death ; or, on the other hand, from those 
scenes of despair and woe exhibited by the dying sinner, 
from whose eye no rank delusion or frenzied enthusiasm 
has shut out the light of God's truth, and the appalling 
retributions of the future state. 

The Holy Scriptures do unquestionably make an em- 
phatic distinction between the death of the righteous and 
that of the wicked ; and human experience is found in 
strict . accordance with divine revelation. " The sting 
of death is sin ; but thanks be to God, which giveth us 
the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." Of the 
righteous it is said, "he hath hope in his death," and 
that his end is " peace ;" but of the wicked, that he " is 
driven away in his wickedness." The righteous is 
represented as "in a strait betwixt two, having a desire 
to depart and to be with Christ ;" while again it is said 
that " when the wicked man dieth, his expectations shall 
perish." The dying saint is heard to exclaim, " We are 
confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the 
body and to be present with the Lord ;" — " Though I 
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will 
fear no evil, for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff 
they comfort me ;" — " My flesh and my heart faileth. but 



22 INTRODUCTION. 

God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever :" 
but of the wicked it is said, " Terrors take hold on him 
as waters, a tempest stealeth him away," and " he would 
fain flee out of God's hand." With these facts of revela- 
tion before us, who can doubt but that there is a moral 
and religious significance in the phenomena of life's 
closing scene ! It is here, in the light of revealed truth, 
that we learn why the righteous, " with heaven full in 
view," can meet death with the song of triumph — 

" The festal morn, my God, is come, 
That calls me to thy hallow'd home." 

While, on the other hand, the mental agonies of the 
wicked, stung with remorse, wrought up to desperation 
by " a fearful looking-for of judgment," conscience- 
smitten and dismayed, 

" Tell what lesson may he read 
Beside a sinner's dying bed." 

These death-bed scenes constitute a part of "the 
portable evidence of Christianity." It is the concen- 
trated light of earthly experience reflected from the 
future back upon the disc of time. It is at this moment 
that the dying sinner seems to anticipate the horrors of 
the damned — the dying saint to receive a foretaste of 
the felicities of the redeemed. 



fkrt 5xr0t, 



THE DYING CHRISTIAN. 



* 



THE DYING CHRISTIAN. 



SECTION I. 

(El)e Christian illarttirs. 

Patriots have toil'd, and in their country's cause 

Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve, 

Receive proud recompense. We give in charge 

Their names to the sweet lyre ; the' historic muse, 

Proud of the treasure, marches with it down 

To latest time ; and sculpture, in her turn, 

Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass 

To guard them, and to' immortalize her trust 

But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, 

To those, who, posted at the shrine of Truth, 

Have fallen in her defence. Q ° 3 

° ° ° ° a Their blood is shed 

In confirmation of the noblest claim — 

Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, 

To walk with God, to be divinely free, 

To soar and to anticipate the skies ! 

Yet few remember them. They lived unknown, 

Till persecution dragg'd them into fame, 

And chased them up to heaven. Their ashes flew 

— Xo marble tells us whither. With their names 

Xo bard embalms and sanctifies his song ! 

And history, so warm on meaner themes, 

Is cold on this. She execrates indeed 

The tyranny that doom' d them to the fire, 

But gives the glorious sufferers little praise. — Cowpee. 

The history of Christian martyrdom at once illus- 
trates the depth of man's depravity, and the richness 
and power of Divine grace. The first three centuries 
of the Christian era was an age illustrious for the per- 
secutions suffered by Christians, no less than for the 
signal triumphs of Christianity. In the ten persecu- 
tions that mark that age, the millions that suffered for 
the cause of Christ will never be numbered on earth. 
The variety and cruelty of their torments almost tran- 

9 



26 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

scend the power of belief. Robanus thus enumerates 
the modes of torture they suffered : " Some were slain 
with the sword ; some burnt with fire ; some scourged 
with whips; some stabbed with forks of iron; some 
fastened to the cross or gibbet; some drowned in the 
sea; some had their skins plucked off; some their 
tongues cut off; some stoned to death; some killed 
with cold ; some starved with hunger ; some their hands 
cut off, or otherwise dismembered, have been so left 
naked to the open shame of the world." The very re- 
finement of cruelty seemed to have been attained under 
Nero. He had some sewed up in the skins of wild 
beasts, and then worried by dogs till they expired. He 
had others dressed in garments made stiff with wax, 
fastened them to axle-trees in his gardens, and then set 
them on fire. In the persecution under Domitian, rack- 
ing, searing, broiling, burning, scourging, and worrying, 
were resorted to. Some were torn piecemeal with red- 
hot pincers, and others thrown upon the horns of wild 
bulls. In other persecutions, many were obliged to walk, 
with their already wounded feet, naked, upon thorns, 
nails, and sharp shells. Others were scourged till their 
sinews and veins lay bare, and after suffering the most 
excruciating tortures, they were destroyed by the most 
terrible deaths. But Saint Augustine says of all these 
martyrs, that diverse and terrible as were their deaths, 
their constancy and firmness were one. These were 
they who " had trial of cruel mockings, and scourgings, 
yea, moreover, of bonds and imprisonments ; they were 
stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were 
slain with the sword; they wandered about in sheep- 
skins and goat-skins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented; 
they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens 
and caves of the earth." By these sufferings did they 
" declare plainly, that they sought a country " — a city 
that hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God. 



/ 



SEC. L] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 27 

In all these persecutions, they realized the fulfilment of 
the words of their Lord, " Ye shall be hated of all men 
for my name's sake." But in the severest and most 
fearful conflict, the consolations of the Gospel sustained 
them ; and the crown of glory now constitutes their eter- 
nal and abundant reward. 

The martyrs are an innumerable host. In almost 
every land has their blood been shed; and in almost 
every clime have the slaughtered followers of our Lord 
borne witness to the truth, that religion is better than 
life. On earth, the Church will hold them in everlast- 
ing remembrance ; in heaven, their souls yet cry from 
beneath the altar, " How long, O Lord, holy and true, 
dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that 
dwell on the earth!" 



1. OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST. 

The first martyr to Christianity was Christ himself. 
After closing his public ministry in Jerusalem, he cele- 
brated the Passover with his disciples, and instituted 
that sacred rite which was to be observed by his fol- 
lowers as a perpetual memorial of himself. Conscious 
that his end was drawing nigh, he predicted the events 
that were to happen to him, and continued till a late 
hour to instruct and console his disciples — holding up 
before them his own love for them as an example of the 
affection that should ever unite their hearts together. 
The affecting and impressive scene was closed by a 
fervent and solemn prayer to the Father, in behalf of his 
followers in the world. This being concluded, the whole 
company, with the exception of Judas, who had already 
gone away to betray his Master, went forth to the Mount 
of Olives. Then exclaimed he to his disciples, " All ye 
shall be offended because of me this night; for it is 



28 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

•written, I will smite the shepherd and the sheep of the 
flock shall be scattered abroad." Though they all pro- 
tested that though they should die with him, yet would 
they not deny him ; yet he, knowing the weakness of 
human courage, said to the boldest and most confident 
of them, " Verily I say unto thee, that this night, before 
the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice." 

They then entered into Gethsemane, a garden beyond 
the brook Kidron, where he had often resorted with his 
disciples. Having entered the garden, he said to the 
disciples, " Sit here while I go and pray yonder." Then 
taking with him Peter, and James, and John, he said, 
"My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death; 
tarry ye here and watch with me. And he went a little 
farther, and fell on his face and prayed, saying, " my 
Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me ; 
nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt." Return- 
ing to the disciples, he found them asleep, and said to 
Peter, " Simon, sleepest thou ? Couldest not thou watch 
with me one hour ?" Again he went away and prayed 
in the same language. On returning;, he found them 
again asleep, for their eyes were heavy ; and they were 
perplexed what to answer him. And the third time he 
went away and prayed, saying, " my Father, if this 
cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it, thy 
will be done." " And there appeared an angel unto him 
from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an 
agony, he prayed more earnestly ; and his sweat was ? 
as it were, great drops of blood falling down to the 
ground." Rising from prayer, he returned a third time 
to his disciples and found them again asleep. Then 
said he to them, " Behold the hour is at hand, and the 
Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners ; he is 
at hand that doth betray me." 

And while he was yet speaking, Judas, having received 
a band of men and officers from the chief priests and 






SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 29 

Pharisees, approached, with lanterns and weapons. The 
salutation of Judas was to be the sign to the multitude 
whom they should arrest. Then, coming immediately 
to Christ, he exclaimed, "Hail, Master; and kissed 
him." But Jesus, beholding the perfidious traitor, ex- 
claimed, " Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man with a 
kiss ¥■ Then said he also to the captains of the band, 
" Be ye come out as against a thief, with swords and 
staves ? When I was daily with you in the temple, ye 
stretched forth no hands against me; but this is your 
hour, and the power of darkness." After this he sub- 
mitted himself to them, and the officers took him and 
bound him. Then the disciples forsook him and fled. 
Jesus is led to the palace of the high priest, where were 
assembled the chief priests, the elders, and the council. 
There they sought false witnesses against him without 
success, till the high priest adjured him by the living 
God to tell whether he were " the Christ, the Son of 
God." Then Jesus replied, " Thou hast said ;" and im- 
mediately the high priest adjudged him guilty of blas- 
phemy, and the whole multitude declared him worthy of 
death. Then they spit in his face and buffeted him ; 
they blindfolded his eyes, and smote him with the palms 
of their hands, and called upon him to prophesy who it 
was that smote him. 

As soon as it was morning, the whole multitude carried 
away Jesus to the hall of justice, and delivered him to 
Pontius Pilate, the governor. Then the chief priests 
accused him of many things, but he made no reply, inso- 
much that Pilate was greatly astonished. Learning, 
however, that he was of Herod's jurisdiction, he sent him 
to Herod who Avas then at Jerusalem. While in the 
presence of Herod, though vehemently accused, he 
maintained the same silence that he had observed be- 
fore Pilate. Then Herod and his men of war set him 
at naught, and mocked him, and arrayed him in a gorge- 



30 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

cms robe, and sent him back to Pilate. But Pilate, when 
he had called the accusers of Christ together, and re- 
hearsed their accusations against him, said to them, " I, 
having examined him before you, have found no fault in 
this man touching those things whereof ye accuse him. 
No, nor yet Herod — for I sent you to him ; and lo, nothing 
worthy of death has been done by him ; I will therefore 
chastise him and release him." But the assembled Jews, 
instigated by the priests and elders, all cried out, "Away 
with this man !" And as Pilate spoke again unto them, 
and said, " I find in him no fault at all," the w T hole 
multitude cried out, " Crucify him, crucify him !" Pilate 
the third time remonstrated w T ith the people, and in- 
quired, " Why, what evil hath he done? I have found 
no cause of death in him." But the people were only 
the more vehement that he should be crucified. Then 
Pilate took water and washed his hands before the multi- 
tude, saying, "I am innocent of the blood of this just 
person; see ye to it." Blinded and infuriated, the 
multitude cried out, " His blood be on us, and on our 
children." Then sentence of death w T as pronounced 
upon Christ, and he was delivered over to be crucified. 
The grand and awful tragedy was now rapidly draw- 
ing to its consummation. Jesus was led into the 
common hall, and the whole band of soldiers was gathered 
around him. And they stript him of his clothes, and 
put on him a scarlet robe. They also platted a crown 
of thorns, and put it upon his head, and a reed in his right 
hand. Then they bowed the knee before him, and cried, 
" Hail, King of the Jews I" They also spit upon him, 
and took the reed and smote him on the head. After 
they had thus derided and mocked him, they took off the 
robe, put on his own raiment, and led him forth to crucify 
him. And there followed a great company of people, 
and of women, who bewailed and lamented him. But 
Jesus, turning to them, said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, 



/ 






SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 31 

weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and for your 
children. If they do these things in the green tree, what 
shall be done in the dry?" Two malefactors were also 
led forth to be crucified with him. And, bearing his 
cross, Jesus went forth to a place called Calvary. On 
arriving at the place of execution, they offered him 
vinegar mingled with gall to drink, but he refused it. 
Then they crucified him between the two thieves; and 
the Scripture, which says, " He was numbered with 
transgressors," was thus fulfilled. The four soldiers 
that crucified him parted his garments among them, and 
cast lots for his coat which was without seam. Over the 
cross was placed, by Pilate, the inscription — Jesus of 
JNazareth, Kin a of the Jews. The people stood 
aghast at the spectacle ! But the rulers derided him, 
crying aloud, Thou that destroyest the temple and re- 
buildest it in three days, save thyself. If thou art the 
Son of God, as thou hast pretended, come down from 
the cross and save thyself. The soldiers also mocked 
him, and in his thirst offered him vinegar to drink. 
Then said Jesus, " Father, forgive them ; for they know 
not what they do." From twelve o'clock till three in 
the afternoon, a supernatural darkness overspread the 
land. At this moment Jesus cried out, with a loud 
voice, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" 
Some of those who heard his cry, said, He calleth for 
Elias ; and others said, Let us see whether Elias will 
come to save him. And one of them, filling a sponge 
with vinegar, put it on a reed and gave it to him to 
drink. Then, when Jesus had received the vinegar, he 
said, "It is finished; Father, into thy hands I com- 
mend my spirit." He then bowed his head and gave up 
the ghost. Thus closed a scene of indignity and torture, 
of mental and bodily suffering protracted through eigh- 
teen hours ; and to which, when we consider who it is 
that suffers and dies, the earth furnishes no parallel. 



o2 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

The omens of that solemn moment were grand and 
awful. The veil of the temple was rent asunder from 
top to bottom, the earth was shaken by an earthquake, 
the rocks were rent, the graves were opened, and the 
bodies of many holy persons arose and appeared to many 
in the city. No wonder that the centurion, and those 
with him who were guarding Jesus, were led to exclaim, 
" Truly this was the Son of God ;" and that the people 
who had witnessed the awful spectacle returned to Jeru- 
salem smiting upon their breasts in anguish. 

Such was the tragic end of our Lord. No wonder 
that infidelity itself has been forced to the confession 
that the " life and death of Jesus Christ were those of a 
God."* 

° The following encomium upon our holy religion and its Divine 
Founder, was given by Rousseau, one of the most profligate and 
hardened infidels of the French school : — " I will confess to you, 
that the majesty of the Scriptures strikes me with admiration, as 
the purity of the Gospel has its influence on my heart. Peruse the 
works of our philosophers with all their pomp of diction ; how 
mean, how contemptible are they, compared with the Scripture ! 
Is it possible, that a book, at once so simple and sublime, should 
be merely the work of man ? Is it possible, that the sacred per- 
sonage, whose history it contains, should be himself a mere man ? 
Do we find that he assumed the tone of an enthusiast or ambitious 
sectary ? What sweetness, what purity in his manner ! What an 
affecting gracefulness in his delivery ! What sublimity in his 
maxims ! What profound wisdom in his discourses ! What pre- 
sence of mind, what subtlety, what truth in his replies ! How 
great the command over his passions ! W r here is the man, where 
the philosopher, who could so live, and so die, without weakness, 
and without ostentation ! When Plato described his imaginary 
good man, loaded with all the shame of guilt, yet meriting the 
highest rewards of virtue, he describes exactly the character of 
Jesus Christ ; the resemblance is so striking, that all the Fathers 
perceived it. 

"What prepossession, what blindness must it be, to compare 
the son of Sophroniscus to the son of Mary ! What an infinite dis- 
proportion there is between them ! Socrates, dying without pain 



SEC. I.J CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 33 



2. ST. STEPHEN. 

Soon after the special outpouring of the Holy Spirit on 
the day of Pentecost, the disciples had become so multi- 
plied, that the Apostles became burdened with the care 
of the needy among them. To aid them St. Stephen, 
and six others, " men of honest report, full of the Holy 
Ghost and wisdom," were set apart as deacons, and ap- 
pointed over that work. St. Stephen was an able and 

or ignominy, easily supported Ms character to the last ; and if his 
death, however easy, had not crowned his life, it might have been 
doubted whether Socrates, with all his wisdom, was anything more 
than a vain Sophist. He invented, it is said, the theory of morals. 
Others, however, had before put them in practice ; he had only to 
say therefore what they had done, and to reduce their examples to 
precepts. Aristides had been just, before Socrates denned justice ; 
Leonidas had given up his life for his country, before Socrates de- 
clared patriotism to be a duty ; the Spartans were a sober people, 
before Socrates recommended sobriety ; before he had even denned 
virtue, Greece abounded in virtuous men. But where could Jesus 
learn, among his competitors, that pure and sublime morality, of 
which he only hath given us both precept and example ? The 
greatest wisdom was made known among the most bigoted fanati- 
cism, and the simplicity of the most heroic virtues did honour to 
the vilest people upon earth. The death of Socrates, peaceably 
philosophizing with his friend, appears the most agreeable that 
could be wished for ; that of Jesus, expiring in the midst of agoniz- 
ing pains, abused, insulted, and accused by a whole nation, is the 
most horrible that could be feared. Socrates, in receiving the cup 
of poison, blest indeed the weeping executioner who administered 
it; but Jesus, in the midst of excruciating tortures, prayed for his 
merciless tormentors. Yes : if the life and death of Socrates were 
those of a sage, the life and death of Jesus are those of a God. 
Shall we suppose the evangelic history a mere fiction? Indeed, 
my friend, it bears not the marks of fiction ; on the contrary, the 
history of Socrates, which nobody presumes to doubt, is not so well 
attested as that of Jesus Christ. Such a supposition, in fact, only 
shifts the difficulty without obviating it; it is more inconceivable 

2* 



34 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

successful preacher ; and being full of faith and power, 
he did great wonders and miracles among the people. 
The principal persons of the different synagogues 
entered into repeated altercations with him ; but they 
found themselves unable to resist the force of his argu- 
ments, or the wisdom and power with which he spake. 
This so exasperated them, that they bribed false wit- 
nesses to accuse him of speaking blasphemous words 
against God, and against Moses. On these charges, he 
was arrested and carried before the Council. Here he 
had everything to fear from the furious rage of the peo- 
ple and the blind prejudice and enmity of his judges ; 
but his confidence did not forsake him, nor was his 
tranquillity disturbed. Conscious innocence, firm faith 
in his Redeemer, and the confident expectation of im- 
mortal bliss, sustained him in this trying hour. A Di- 
vine splendour overspread his very countenance ; so that 
the whole council were attracted with steadfast gaze to 
him, and they beheld " his face as it had been the face 
of an angel." 

When permitted to speak for himself, he made a most 
noble defence. He ran through a detail of the Divine 
dispensations to the patriarchs and their posterity, till 
he came down to the days of Solomon. Then, perceiv- 
ing the impatience of the men who had already deter- 
mined upon his destruction, and that they were about to 
interrupt him, he suddenly changes his discourse, and 
addresses his audience in the language of accusation and 
reproach. " Ye stiff-necked and uncircumcised in heart 
and ears, ye do always resist the Holy Ghost ; as your 

that a number of persons should agree to write such a history, than 
that one only should furnish the subject of it. The Jewish authors 
were incapable of the diction, and strangers to the morality, con- 
tained in the Gospel, the marks of whose truth are so striking and 
inimitable, that the inventor would be a more astonishing charac- 
ter than the hero." 






SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 35 

fathers did, so do ye. Which of the prophets Lave not 
your fathers persecuted? And they have slain them 
-which showed before of the coming of the Just One, of 
whom ye have now been the betrayers and murderers. 
Who have received the law by the agency of angels, and 
have not kept it." Such was the strain of sublime invec- 
tive with which the man of God charged home their sins 
upon the infuriated multitude. Their rage now knew no 
bounds. They literally " gnashed upon him with their 
teeth." That was a critical, an awful moment. An or- 
dinary man, unsustained by religious faith, would have 
had recourse to tears and supplications that the hearts 
of his persecutors might be melted and they induced to 
spare ; or, pale with fear, stupified with horror, he would 
in the very sullenness of despair yield to his fate. Not 
so with the suffering saint. Calmly he lifts his eyes 
above the scene around him, high up to the place of 
his help. Just then a vision of heaven was opened to 
his view ; and he said, " Behold, I see the heavens 
opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand 
of God." 

The multitude could bear no more. " They cried out 
with a loud voice," that they might drown the voice of 
the blasphemer ; they " stopped their ears," lest they 
should hear more of his words. Disregarding all the 
decencies of a court of justice, and all the integrity of 
judicial proceedings, they rushed upon him with one ac- 
cord, thrust him out of the city, and stoned him. The 
few moments of life that remained to Stephen were spent 
in commending his soul to God, and in the utterance of 
that ever-memorable prayer for his murderers: "Lord, 
lay not this sin to their charge." As the last syllable 
of that prayer fell from his tongue, the mortal blow was 
inflicted by his murderers, and the martyr "fell asleep." 
Noble, illustrious servant of God ! Martyred hero of 
the cross ! Nobly didst thou illustrate the power and 



36 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART. I. 

excellence of the Gospel of Christ! Glorious was 

thine example, set before the martyrs of every suc- 
ceeding age ! * 



3. IGNATIUS. 

During the third primitive persecution, Ignatius, the 
celebrated bishop of Antioch, suffered martyrdom. He 
received the Gospel from St. John, the Evangelist ; was 
deeply imbued with his spirit ; and, in spite of all dan- 
gers and persecutions, continued, with untiring zeal, to 
preach * Christ. In a letter to Poly carp, he describes 
some of his adventures, his sufferings, and his purposes. 
"From Syria, even till I came to Rome, had I to battle 
with beasts, as well by sea as land, both day and night, 
being bound in the midst of ten cruel libards, (i. e., 
soldiers,) who, the more benefits they had received at 
my hands, became so much the worse unto me. But 
now, being well acquainted with their injuries, I am 
taught every day more and more. And would to God 
I w T ere once come to the beasts that are prepared for 
me ; which also I wish, with gaping mouths, were ready 
to come upon me. Now begin I to be a scholar; I es- 
teem no visible things, nor yet invisible things, so that 
I may obtain Christ Jesus. Let the fire, the gallows, 
the devouring of wild beasts, the breaking of bones, the 
pulling asunder of my members, the bruising or pressing 
of my whole body, and the torments of the devil or hell 
itself come upon" me, so that I may win Christ !" 

Nor was this an empty boast. When brought before 
the emperor, he boldly vindicated the faith of Christ. 
For this he was cast into prison, and there tormented in 

° The death, of Stephen was succeeded by a persecution at Jeru- 
salem, in which Nicanor, another deacon, and over two thousand 
other Christians, suffered martyrdom, and multitudes were obliged 
to flee abroad, and seek refuge in other countries. 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 37 

a manner shocking to humanity. After being dread- 
fully scourged, he was compelled to hold fire in his 
hands, and at the same time papers dipped in oil were 
applied to his sides and set on fire. His flesh was then 
torn with red-hot pincers ; and at last he was delivered 
over to the wild beasts, and by them torn in pieces. 
Through all this torture the venerable bishop passed 
with the utmost self-possession and constancy of faith ; 
and thus attained the martyr's crown. 



4. SYMPHORSA AND HER SONS. 

This lady and her seven sons had become Christians. 
Having been commanded by the emperor to sacrifice to 
the heathen gods, they promptly and unanimously re- 
fused to comply with the impious mandate. The empe- 
ror, in a rage, threatened their destruction ; but this not 
shaking their constancy, he immediately put his threat 
into execution. The mother was taken to the temple 
of Hercules, where she was first fearfully scourged, and 
afterwards hung up for some time by the hair of her 
head. After the savage monsters had thus glutted their 
vengeance upon her, a large stone was fastened to her 
neck, and she was thrown into the river. 

The sons were fastened to seven posts, and being 
drawn up by pulleys, their limbs were dislocated. But 
these tortures, and even the indignities and cruelties 
practised upon their mother, had no power to affect their 
resolution. Their tortures were at length terminated. 
The eldest was stabbed in the throat, the second in the 
breast, the third in the heart, the fourth in the navel, the 
fifth in the back, the sixth in the side, and the seventh 
was sawn asunder. Thus was the whole family exter- 
minated by the most cruel and relentless persecution.* 

9 About this time (the beginning of the second century,) not 
less than ten thousand Christians suffered martyrdom in Rome. 



38 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



5. POLYCARP. 

Polycaiip was the hearer and pupil of John the Evan- 
gelist ; and by him was constituted bishop of Smyrna. 
He was venerable for years, as well as for long and dis- 
tinguished service in the cause of Christ, having been a 
follower of Christ for eighty- six years, and active in the 
ministry about seventy. During the fourth primitive 
persecution, this eminent servant of God was called to 
wear the crown of martyrdom. Germanicus, a young 
and true Christian, when delivered over to wild beasts 
on account of his faith, behaved with such astonishing 
courage, that several Pagans became converts to Chris- 
tianity. This so enraged the persecutors that they 
began to cry out, " Destroy the wicked men ; let Poly- 
carpus be sought for." A great uproar and tumult then 
ensued. Polycarp, hearing that persons were after him 
to apprehend him, escaped ; but he was discovered by a 
child. From this circumstance, and having dreamed 
that his bed had suddenly taken fire and was consumed 
in a moment, he concluded that it was God's will that he 
should suffer martyrdom. He therefore did not attempt 
to make a second escape when he had an opportunity 
of so doing. Those who arrested him were amazed at 
his serenity of countenance and gravity. After supply- 
ing food to the soldiers who had arrested him, he re- 
quested that he might have an hour for prayer; which 
being granted, he prayed with such fervency and power, 
that his guards began to repent that they had been in- 
strumental in taking him. 

When he was brought before the tribunal, the pro- 
consul, struck with his great age and venerable appear- 
ance, besought him, saying, " Have pity on thine own 
great age; swear by the fortune of Caesar ; repent, ab- 






SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 39 

jure the atheists," — meaning Christians. Polycarp, cast- 
ing his eyes solemnly over the multitude, waving his 
hand towards them, and looking up to heaven, said, 
" Take away these atheists," — meaning the idolaters and 
persecutors around him. The pro-consul still continued 
to urge him : " Swear, and I will release thee ; reproach 
Christ." The venerable bishop calmly replied : " Eighty 
and six years have I served him, and he hath never 
wronged me ; and how can I blaspheme my God and 
King who hath saved me!" "But I have wild beasts," 
said the pro-consul, " and I will expose you to them un- 
less you repent." "Call them," said the martyr. "I 
will tame your spirit by fire," said the Roman. "You 
threaten me," said Polycarp, "with the fire which burns 
only for a moment, but are yourself ignorant of the fire 
of eternal punishment, reserved for the ungodly." The 
pro-consul, finding it impossible to shake his steadfast- 
ness, adjudged him to the flames. But in their midst 
he sung praises to God, and exclaimed, " Father of 
thy beloved and blessed Son, Jesus Christ ! God of 
all principalities and of all creation ! I bless thee, that 
thou hast counted me worthy of this day and this hour, 
to receive my portion in the number of the martyrs — in 
the cup of Christ." 



6. JUSTIN MARTYR. 

This celebrated Christian philosopher and martyr suf- 
fered not long after Polycarp. He had been favoured 
with the best education the times could afford. He was 
a great lover of truth, and a universal scholar. He had 
investigated the different systems of philosophy then in 
vogue ; and had also travelled into Egypt, where the 
polite tour for improvement was made in that age. He 
was especially conversant with the Platonic philosophy, 



40 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

which he had embraced, and in which he took great de- 
light. When about thirty years of age, he became a 
convert to Christianity, and soon after wrote an elegant 
epistle to the Gentiles, to convert them to the Christian 
faith. He likewise employed his talents to convince the 
Jews of the truth of the Christian doctrines. After 
travelling for some time, he a,t length fixed his residence 
in Rome. Here he addressed to the emperor Antonius, 
to the Senate and people, an apology in favour of the 
persecuted Christians. This apology, it is said, dis- 
plays great learning and genius, and induced the empe- 
ror to publish an edict in favour of the Christians! 

A short time after, he entered into a controversy with 
Crescens, a person of vicious life, but a celebrated cynic 
philosopher. His arguments only exasperated the phi- 
losopher, and he determined upon his destruction. An 
occasion to accomplish this was soon offered. Two 
Christians being put to death, Justin wrote a second 
apology, commenting upon the severities exercised to- 
wards them. His cynic antagonist seized upon the op- 
portunity to prejudice the mind of the emperor against 
him. He was accordingly apprehended, and commanded 
to deny his faith and to sacrifice to the gods. This he 
firmly refused to do ; and, after being scourged, he was 
finally beheaded, and thus suffered martyrdom for the 
truth. 

7. EPIPODIUS AND ALEXANDER. 

Among the martyrs of Lyons, in the year of our Lord 
177, were Epipodius and Alexander, celebrated for 
their strong Christian affection for each other. When 
the persecution began first to rage at Lyons, they were 
in the prime of life, and to avoid its severities they 
thought proper to withdraw to a neighbouring village. 
Here they were for some time concealed by a Christian 






SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 41 

widow. But their malicious persecutors sought after 
them with indefatigable industry, and pursued them to 
their place of concealment, whence they were committed 
to prison without examination. At the expiration of 
three days, when brought before the governor, they were 
examined in the presence of a crowd of heathen : here 
they boldly confessed Christ, upon which the enraged 
governor exclaimed, " What signifies all the former per- 
secutions, if some yet remain w T ho dare to acknowledge 
Christ." 

" They were then separated, that they should not con- 
sole Avith each other, and he began to tamper with Bpi- 
podius, the youngest of the two. He pretended to pity 
his condition, and entreated him not to ruin himself 
by obstinacy. 'Our deities,' continued he, 'are wor- 
shipped by the greater part of the universe, and their 
rulers ; we adore them with feasting and mirth, while 
you adore a crucified man; we, to honour them, launch 
into pleasures — you, by your faith, are debarred from all 
that indulges the senses. Our religion enjoins feasting, 
yours fasting ; ours the joys of licentious blandishment, 
yours the barren virtue of chastity. Can you expect 
protection from one who could not secure himself from 
the persecution of a contemptible people ? Then quit a 
profession of such austerity, and enjoy those gratifica- 
tions which the world affords, and which your youthful 
years demand. ' Epipodius, in reply, contemning his 
compassion : ' Your pretended tenderness,' said he, ' is 
actual cruelty; and the agreeable life you describe, is 
replete with everlasting death. Christ suffered for us, 
that our pleasure should be immortal, and hath prepared 
for his followers an eternity of bliss. The frame of man 
being composed of two parts, body and soul, the first, as 
mean and perishable, should be rendered subservient to 
the latter. Your idolatrous feasts may gratify the mor- 
tal, but they injure the immortal part: that cannot, 



42 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

therefore, be enjoying life which destroys the most 
valuable moiety of frame. 

" ' Your pleasures lead to eternal death, and our pains 
to eternal happiness.' 

"For this rational speech, Epipodius was severely 
beaten and then put to the rack, upon which being 
stretched, his flesh was torn with iron hooks. Having 
borne his torments with incredible patience and forti- 
tude, he was taken from the rack and beheaded. Alex- 
ander, his companion, was brought before the judges two 
days after his execution ; and on his absolute refusal to 
renounce Christianity, he was placed on the rack and 
beaten by three executioners, who relieved each other 
alternately. He bore his sufferings with as much forti- 
tude as his friend had done, and at length was crucified." 



8. VIVIA PERPETUA. 

MPv. Milman says, that " of all the histories of martyr- 
dom, none is so unexaggerated in its tone and language 
— so entirely unencumbered with miracle ; none abounds 
in such exquisite touches of nature, or, on the whole, 
from its minuteness and circumstantiality, breathes such 
an air of truth and reality, as that of Perpetua and Fe- 
licitas," who suffered martyrdom at Carthage, about the 
year of our Lord 202. 

Vivia Perpetua was a woman of good family, liberal 
education, about twenty-two years of age, honourably 
married, and her first-born child still an infant at the 
breast. When her father, who alone of all the family 
continued a heathen, heard that his daughter was in- 
formed against, he sought, by every art of persuasion, 
and even resorted to compulsion, to induce her to sur- 
render her faith. Soon after, she was thrown into prison. 
Here the darkness of the prison, the dreadful heat occa- 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 43 

sionecl by the crowd of the prisoners, and the rude in- 
sults of the soldiers, greatly terrified her. She was also 
wrung with solicitude about her infant. Through the 
kindness of those who had charge of her she was per- 
mitted to inhale the fresh air, and to nurse her infant for 
several hours each day. She addressed a letter of con- 
solation and encouragement to her mother, and com- 
mended her infant child to the care of her brother. 
Upon her examination, her faith and constancy were 
subjected to a most fearful trial. After her fellow-pri- 
soners had all confessed that they were Christians, and 
before Perpetua had opportunity to do it in the custom- 
ary form, her father appeared before her with her infant 
in his arms. He drew her down the step, and besought 
her, for his sake, for the sake of her mother, for the sake 
of her helpless offspring, and for the sake of the whole 
family, to abjure Christ. Hilarianus, the procurator, 
moved by the deeply affecting scene, joined in the entreat- 
ies of the father. " Spare," said he, " spare the gray hairs 
of your parent; spare your infant ; offer sacrifice for the 
welfare of the emperor." Great was the struggle in her 
breast; but grace triumphed over nature, and she said, 
" I am not in my own power, but in that of God." Then 
said the procurator, " Art thou a Christian ?" Calmly 
and distinctly she answered, "I am a Christian." She 
was then condemned to be given up to the w^ild beasts. 
But she returned to her prison filled with joy. Her 
child w T as now taken entirely away from her, but she 
bore the privation with uncommon fortitude. In her 
confinement, she was filled with unspeakable comfort, 
and her soul often ravished with visions of coming 
glory. 

As the day of execution drew near, her father again 
visited her. He was haggard with affliction, he plucked 
out his beard, fell before her with his face in the dust, 
and with the most pathetic and heart-rending exclama- 



44 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

tions, besought her to save her life by renouncing Christ. 
But her determination was unalterably fixed. She had 
counted the cost, and she could say, "None of these 
things move me." When the day of execution arrived, 
the prisoners, consisting of Perpetua and Felicitas, and 
three men who had been condemned, walked forth with 
erect and cheerful countenances. On reaching the gate 
of the amphitheatre, the officers, according to custom, 
began to clothe the men in the dresses of the priests of 
Saturn, and the women in those of the priestesses of 
Ceres. But when they remonstrated against the in- 
justice of being compelled by force to do that, for refus- 
ing which they were willing to lay down their lives, the 
tribune granted them the privilege of dying in their own 
habits. 

They then entered the amphitheatre ; when Perpetua 
advanced singing hymns, and her three male companions 
solemnly exhorting the people as they went along. 
Coming in view of the pro-praetor, they said, " You 
judge us, but God will judge you." This so enraged 
the populace, that, at their request, all the three were 
scourged ; but in this they rejoiced, as having the hon- 
our to share in one part of the sufferings of their 
Saviour. 

When the wild beasts were let loose upon the three 
men, the first was instantly killed by several rushing 
upon him at once ; the second was killed by a leopard 
and a bear. The third was first dragged about by a wild 
bull, then delivered over to a leopard; and when a 
stream of blood gushed out at one of his bites, the multi- 
tude ridiculed him, and cried out, that he was baptized 
with blood ! Not being quite killed he was taken away 
and was next day beheaded, continuing steadfast to 
the end. 

The two females were stripped naked and enclosed in 
nets to be gored by a wild cow. But even the excited 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 45 

populace shrank with horror at the spectacle of two 
young and delicate women in that state. They were 
recalled by acclamation, and brought forward again in 
loose robes. Perpetua was first tossed in the air by the 
beast ; but her injuries were not mortal, and she soon 
arose, adjusted her dress, and then raised up her faint- 
ing and mortally wounded companion. She seemed now 
to be in an ecstacy of soul, and inquired how long before 
the scene would close. Her last words were tenderly 
addressed to her brother, exhorting him to be steadfast 
in the faith. She and her companion then gave to each 
other the kiss of charity, and resignedly submitted them- 
selves to the stroke of the executioner. 

Who can behold young and delicate women passing 
unmoved through such a scene as this without being 
filled with wonder and astonishment ? What courage 
of the hero upon the battle-field can compare with this ? 
Moral heroism is always sublime, but this is the most 
sublime form of its manifestation. How inestimable 
and glorious the riches of that grace that can effect such 
signal triumphs ! 



9. BLANDESTA. 

The following account of the martyrdom of Blandina of 
Vienne, about the close of the second century, is taken 
mainly from Lardner's translation of the history of the 
sufferings of the martyrs of that time. " When her 
friends and fellow-pilgrims in the kingdom and patience 
of Christ were all in pain for her, lest, upon account of 
the infirmity of her body, she should not be able to 
make an open confession, she was furnished with such 
strength, that they, who by turns tortured her all man- 
ner of ways from morning to evening, became feeble and 
faint, and acknowledged themselves overcome, there 



46 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

being nothing more that they could do to her. And 
they wondered that she had any breath left, her whole 
body having been torn and mangled ; declaring that 
any one kind of torture, used by them, was sufficient to 
deprive her of life, much more so many and so great. 
But she seemed to renew her strength ; and it was a re- 
freshment and an abatement of the torments inflicted 
upon her to say, ' I am a Christian : nor is there any 
wickedness practised among us.' 

" Afterwards she was brought into the amphitheatre ; 
and having been hung upon a stake, w T as left for a prey 
to wild beasts, which were let out upon her. Here she 
seemed like one hanging upon the cross, and earnestly 
prayed unto God. None of the wild beasts touching 
her at that time, she was taken down from the stake, 
and sent again to prison, being reserved for another 
combat ; that, having overcome in many encounters, she 
might be an encouragement to the brethren, when she, 
who w T as of little account, infirm, and despicable, being 
clothed with the great and invincible champion, having 
often overcome the enemy, obtained an incorruptible 
crown of glory. 

" After all these, on the last day of the shows, Elan- 
dina was again brought in, with a young man named 
Ponticus, about fifteen years of age ; who had also been 
every day successively brought in to see the sufferings 
of the others. They now were required to swear by 
their idols ; but, as they remained firm, and set their 
gods at naught, the multitude was greatly incensed 
against them, so that they had no compassion on the age 
of the young man, nor any respect for the sex of the 
other, but exposed them to all manner of sufferings, 
and made them go through the whole circle of tortures, 
at times calling out to them to swear, without being able 
to effect it. For Ponticus, animated and established by 
his sister, as the Gentiles also perceived, after having 



SEC. L] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 47 

courageously endured every kind of torment, expired. 
But the blessed Blandina, the last of all, having, like a 
good mother, encouraged her children, and sent them 
before her, victors to the King ; after having again mea- 
sured over the same course of combats that her sons had 
passed through, hastened to them, rejoicing and exulting 
at her departure, as if she had been invited to a wedding- 
supper, and not cast to wild beasts. After she had been 
scourged, after she had been exposed to wild beasts, 
and after the iron chair, she was enclosed in a net, and 
thrown to a bull : having been often tossed by the beast, 
she was at length run through with a sword. 



10. LAURENTIUS. 

Laurentius, generally called St. Laurence, the princi- 
pal of the deacons, who taught and preached under 
Sextus, followed him to the place of execution.* when 
Sextus predicted that he should meet him in heaven 
three days after. Laurentius considering this as a cer- 
tain indication of his own approaching martyrdom, at 
his return collected all the Christian poor, and distributed 
among them all the treasures of the Church, which had 
been committed to his care, thinking the money could 
not be better disposed of, or less liable to fall into the 
hands of the heathen. His conduct alarmed the perse- 
cutors, who seized on him, and commanded him to give 
an immediate account to the emperor of the Church 
treasures. 

Laurentius promised to satisfy them, but begged a 
short respite to put things in proper order ; when three 
days being granted him he was suffered to depart; 
whereupon, with great diligence, he collected together a 
great number of aged, helpless, and impotent poor, and 
° Sextus, bishop of Rome, suffered martyrdom, A. D. 258. 



48 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

repaired to the magistrate, presenting them to him, say- 
ing, " These are the true treasures of the Church." 

Provoked at the disappointment, the governor ordered 
him to be immediately scourged. He was then beaten 
with iron rods, set upon a wooden horse, and had his 
limbs dislocated. He endured these tortures with such 
fortitude and perseverance, that he was ordered to be 
fastened to a large gridiron, with a slow fire under it, 
that his death might be the more tedious. But his as- 
tonishing constancy during these trials, and his serenity 
of countenance wiiile under such excruciating torments, 
gave the spectators so exalted an idea of the dignity and 
truth of the Christian religion, that many immediately 
became converts. 

Having endured this torture for a long time, and hav- 
ing been turned once upon the gridiron, he at length 
cheerfully lifted his eyes to heaven and calmly yielded 
his spirit to the Almighty. 



11. JULIAN OF CILICIA. 

Julian, according to St. Chrysostom, having been ap- 
prehended for being a Christian, and frequently tortured, 
remained inflexible in his determination to die rather 
than renounce Christ. He was frequently brought from 
prison, but as often remanded to suffer still greater 
cruelties. He was at length obliged to travel for twelve 
months together, from town to town, to be exposed to 
the insults of the populace. When all these efforts to 
make him recant his religion had failed, and he seemed 
as fixed as ever in his faith, he was brought before the 
judge, stripped naked, and scourged in a most terrible 
manner. But all without effect : nor did he shrink even 
when he was thrust into a leather bag, together with a 
number of scorpions, serpents, and other venomous rep- 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 49 

tiles. In this, the most shocking of all conditions, he 
was thrown into the sea. In the midst of all, and to the 
very last, his constancy was unshaken. 



12. CYPRIAN OF CARTHAGE. 

The martyrdom of Cyprian conferred a melancholy 
celebrity on the persecution of Valerian. He was, at 
that time, the most distinguished prelate of Western 
Christendom. He was supposed to be of honourable 
birth; but his learning and talents had raised him to 
eminence and wealth. He was already advanced in life ' 
when he embraced Christianity. He entered upon his 
new career with the mature reason of age, and with the 
ardour and freshness of youth. His wealth w as devoted 
to pious and charitable purposes ; his style of delivery 
was warm and impassioned, while his rhetorical studies 
gave order and clearness to his language. 

When the bishopric of Carthage became vacant, his 
reluctant diffidence was overpowered by the acclama- 
tions of the whole city, who environed his house and 
almost compelled him to assume the functions of the 
distinguished office. The fearful times which arose dur- 
ing his episcopate tried most thoroughly, but did not 
shake the firmness of his faith. The first rumour of per- 
secution designated the bishop of Carthage for its vic- 
tim ; and the first cry of the pagans was, " Cyprian to 
the lions — Cyprian to the beasts !" When he received a 
summons to appear before the pro-consul, he would not 
listen to the earnest solicitations of his friends, who en- 
treated him again* to consult his safety by withdrawing 

° During the persecution of Decius, Cyprian had retired from 
the city and spent some years in a retreat, from which he ad- 
dressed encouraging and consolatory letters to the Church ; and 
where also he wrote an affecting account of the persecutions suf- 



50 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

to some place of concealment. His trial was postponed 
for a day; and he was treated, while in custody, with 
respect and even delicacy. But the intelligence of the 
apprehension of Cyprian drew together the whole city — 
the heathen to behold the spectacle of his martyrdom ; 
the Christians to w T atch in their affectionate zeal at the 
doors of his prison. In the morning he had to walk 
some distance, and w T as violently heated by the exer- 
tion. A Christian soldier offered to procure for him 
some dry linen, apparently from mere courtesy, but in 
reality to obtain some precious relics, steeped in the 
" bloody sweat " of the martyr. C^yprian intimated that 
it was useless to seek remedy for inconveniences which 
perhaps would that day pass away forever. 

When the pro-consul appeared, he inquired, " Art 
thou Thasicus Cyprian, the bishop of so many impious 
men? The most sacred emperor commands thee to 
sacrifice." Cyprian calmly replied, " I will not sacri- 
fice." The pro-consul then besought him to consider, 
whether he had not better cast a grain of incense into 
the fire, in honour of idols, than to die so degraded a 
death. His noble reply was, " Execute your orders ; the 
case admits of no consideration." Galerius then con- 
sulted with his council, and finding all their efforts vain 
to induce the bishop to recant, reluctantly delivered his 
sentence in the following terms : — 

" Thascius Cyprian, thou hast lived long in thy im- 
fdety, and assembled around thee many men involved in 
the same wicked conspiracy. Thou hast shown thyself 
an enemy alike to the gods and the laws of the empire ; 
the pious and sacred emperors have in vain endeavoured 
to recall thee to the worship of thy ancestors. Since, 
then, thou hast been the chief author and leader of these 

fered by it. A second time lie was banished from the city instead 
of being executed. 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 51 

most guilty practices, thou shalt be an example to those 
whom thou hast deluded to thy unlawful assemblies. 
Thou must expiate thy crime with thy blood." 

On hearing his sentence, Cyprian said, " God be 
thanked !" He was soon after carried into a neighbour- 
ing field and beheaded: his serene composure was 
maintained to the last. 



13. JOHN HITSS. 

John Huss was born at Hussenitz, in Bohemia, in the 
year 1380; and early in life gave evidence of uncom- 
mon endowments. He became bachelor of divinity in 
1398, and was soon after chosen pastor of the church of 
Bethlehem, in Prague, and dean and rector of the uni- 
versity. He enjoyed here the highest reputation — as 
well for the sanctity of his life and the purity of his 
doctrines, as for his sound acquirements in knowledge. 
The light of reformation which Wiclif had kindled in 
England, had shone into Bohemia ; and great numbers 
of the people received the doctrines he taught with joy 
and gladness. In the breast of Huss they found a ready 
and earnest response ; and in 1407, he began openly to 
preach them to his flock. The archbishop of Prague, 
finding the reformists daily increasing, issued a decree 
for the suppression of Wiclif 's writings ; but this only 
stimulated the friends of reform to still greater activity. 
Huss, . in particular, opposed the decree of the arch- 
bishop, and with some other members of the university 
appealed from his decision. 

The affair being made known to the pope, he granted 
a commission to Cardinal Colonna, to cite John Huss to 
appear personally at the court of Rome, to answer the 
accusations laid against him — of preaching both errors 
and heresies. Huss desired to be excused from a per- 



52 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

sonal appearance, and was so greatly favoured in Bo- 
hemia, that king Winceslaus, the queen, the nobility, 
and the university, desired the pope to dispense with 
such an appearance. 

Three proctors appeared for Huss before cardinal 
Colonna. They endeavoured to excuse his absence, 
and said, they were ready to answer in his behalf. But 
the cardinal declared Huss contumacious, and excom- 
municated him accordingly. From this unjust sentence, 
Huss appealed to a future council, but without success ; 
and, notwithstanding so severe a decree, and an expul- 
sion in consequence from his church in Prague, he re- 
tired to Hussenitz, his native place, where he continued 
to promulgate his new doctrine, both from the pulpit and 
with the pen. 

In the month of November, 1414, a general council 
w r as assembled at Constance, in Germany, in order, as 
was pretended, for the sole purpose of determining a 
dispute then pending between three persons who con- 
tended for the papacy ; but the real motive was, to crush 
the progress of the reformation. 

John Huss was summoned to appear at this council ; 
and, to encourage him, the emperor sent him a safe- 
conduct : the civilities, and even reverence, which Huss 
met with on his journey, were beyond imagination. 
The streets, and sometimes the very roads, were lined 
with people, whom respect, rather than curiosity, had 
brought together. He was ushered into the town with 
great acclamations ; and it may be said, that he passed 
through Germany in a kind of triumph. He could not 
help expressing his surprise at the treatment he re- 
ceived : " I thought," said he, " I had been an outcast. 
I now see my worst friends are in Bohemia." 

As soon as Huss arrived at Constance, he immedi- 
ately took lodgings in a remote part of the city. When 
it was known that he was in the city, he was immedi- 



SEC. LI CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 53 

ately arrested, and committed prisoner to a chamber in 
the palace. This violation of common law and justice 
was particularly noticed by one of Huss's friends, who 
urged the imperial safe-conduct ; but the pope replied, 
he never granted any safe-conduct, nor was he bound by 
that of the emperor. 

"While Huss was in confinement, the council acted the 
part of inquisitors. They condemned the doctrines of 
Wiclif, and even ordered his remains to be dug up, 
and burnt to ashes; which orders were strictly com- 
plied with. In the mean time, the nobility of Bohemia 
and Poland strongly interceded for Huss; and so far 
prevailed as to prevent his being condemned unheard, 
which had been resolved on by the commissioners ap- 
pointed to try him. 

When he was brought before the council, the articles 
exhibited against him were read : they were upwards of 
forty in number, and chiefly extracted from his writings. 

After his examination, he was taken from the court, 
and a resolution was formed by the council to burn him 
as a heretic if he would not retract. He was then com- 
mitted to a filthy prison, where, in the daytime, he was 
so laden with fetters on his legs, that he could hardly 
move ; and every night he was fastened by his hand to 
a ring against the walls of the prison. 

After continuing some days in this situation, many 
noblemen of Bohemia interceded in his behalf. They 
drew up a petition for his release, which was presented 
to the council by several of the most distinguished 
nobles of Bohemia ; a few days after the petition was 
presented, four bishops and two lords were sent by the 
emperor to the prison, in order to prevail on Huss to 
make a recantation. But he called God to witness, 
with tears in his eyes, that he was not conscious of hav- 
ing preached, or written, against the truth of Gpd, or 
the faith of his orthodox Church. 



54 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

On the fourth of July, Huss was brought, for the last 
time, before the council. After a long examination he 
was desired to abjure, which he refused without the least 
hesitation. The bishop of Lodi then preached a sangui- 
nary sermon, concerning the destruction of heretics, — the 
prologue to his intended punishment. After the close 
of the sermon, his fate was determined, his vindication 
disregarded, and judgment was pronounced. Huss 
heard this sentence without the least emotion. At the 
close of it he knelt down, with his eyes lifted towards 
heaven, and, with all the magnanimity of a primitive 
martyr, thus exclaimed: "May thy infinite mercy, 
my God, pardon this injustice of mine enemies ! Thou 
knowest the injustice of my accusations — how deformed 
with crimes I have been represented ; how I have been 
oppressed with worthless witnesses, and a false condem- 
nation ; yet, my God, let that mercy of thine, which 
no tongue can express, prevail with thee not to avenge 
my wrongs !" 

These excellent sentences were esteemed as so many 
expressions of treason, and tended to inflame his adver- 
saries. Accordingly, the bishops appointed by the 
council stripped him of his priestly garments, degraded 
him, and put a paper mitre on his head, on which was 
painted devils, with this inscription, " A ringleader of 
heretics." Our heroic martyr received this mock mitre 
with an air of unconcern, which seemed to give him dig- 
nity rather than disgrace. A serenity, nay, even a joy, 
appeared in his looks, which indicated that his soul had 
cut off many stages of a tedious journey in her way to 
the realms of everlasting peace. 

After the ceremony of degradation was over, the 
bishops delivered Huss to the emperor, who put him 
into the hands of the duke of Bavaria. His books were 
burnt at the gates of the church ; and on the sixth of 
July he was led to the suburbs of Constance, to be burnt 






SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 55 

alive. On his arrival at the place of execution, he fell 
on his knees, sung several portions of the Psalms, looked 
steadfastly towards heaven, and repeated these words : 
" Into thy hands, Lord, do I commit my spirit : thou 
hast redeemed me, most good and faithful God. Lord 
Jesus Christ, assist and help me, that, with a firm and 
present mind, by thy most powerful grace, I may under- 
go this most cruel and ignominious death, to which I am 
condemned for preaching the truth of thy most holy 
Gospel." 

When the chain was put about him at the stake, he 
said, with a smiling countenance, "My Lord Jesus 
Christ was bound with a harder chain than this for my 
sake, and why then should I be ashamed of this rusty 
one ?" 

When the fagots were piled up to his very neck, the 
duke of Bavaria was so officious as to desire him to ab- 
jure. " No," said Huss, " I never preached any doctrine 
of an evil tendency ; and what I taught w T ith my lips I 
now seal with my blood." He then said to the execu- 
tioner, " You are now going to burn a goose, (Huss sig- 
nifying goose in the Bohemian language,) but in a cen- 
tury you will have a swan, whom you can neither roast 
nor boil." If this were prophetic, he must have meant 
Martin Luther, who shone about a hundred years after, 
and who had a swan for his arms. 

The flames were now applied to the fagots, when our 
martyr sung a hymn, w T ith so loud and cheerful a voice, 
that he was heard through all the crackling's of the com- 
bustibles, and the noise of the multitude. At length his 
voice was interrupted by the severity of the flames, 
which soon closed his existence. 



56 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



14. JEROME OF PRAGUE. 

Jerome was the intimate friend and companion of Huss, 
and suffered martyrdom about one year later. He was 
educated at the university of Prague, had travelled 
abroad, visiting most of the countries and universities 
of Europe, and was distinguished for his virtues, no less 
than for his uncommon learning and eloquence. On his 
return from his travels he openly professed the doctrines 
of Wiclif, and became an assistant to Huss in the great 
work of reformation. 

On the fourth of April, 1415, Jerome arrived at Con- 
stance, about three months before the death of Huss. 
He entered the town privately, and consulting with some 
of the leaders of his party, whom he found there, was 
easily convinced he could not be of any service to his 
friend. 

Finding that his arrival at Constance was publicly 
known, and that the council intended to seize him, he 
thought it most prudent to retire. Accordingly, the 
next day he went to Iberiing, an imperial town, about a 
mile from Constance. From this place he wrote to the 
emperor, and proposed his readiness to appear before 
the council, if he would give him a safe- conduct; but 
this w T as refused. He then applied to the council, but 
met with an answer no less unfavourable than that from 
the emperor. 

After this he set out on his return to Bohemia. He 
had the precaution to take with him a certificate, signed 
by several of the Bohemian nobility, then at Constance, 
testifying that he had used all prudent means in his 
power to procure a hearing. 

Jerome, however, did not thus escape. He was seized 
at Hirsaw, by an officer belonging to the duke of Suits- 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 57 

bach, who, though unauthorized so to act, made little 
doubt of obtaining thanks from the council for so ac- 
ceptable a service. 

The duke of Sultsbach, having Jerome now in his 
power, wrote to the council for directions how to pro- 
ceed. The council, after expressing their obligations to 
the duke, desired him to send the prisoner immediately 
to Constance. The elector palatine met him on the 
way, and conducted him into the city, himself riding on 
horseback, with a numerous retinue, who led Jerome in 
fetters by a long chain ; and immediately on his arrival 
he was committed to a loathsome dungeon. 

Jerome was treated nearly in the same manner as 
Huss had been, only that he was much longer confined, 
and shifted from one prison to another. At length, 
being brought before the council, he desired that he 
might plead his own cause, and exculpate himself; 
which being refused him, he broke out into the following 
elegant exclamation : — 

" What barbarity is this ! For three hundred and 
forty days have I been confined in a variety of pri- 
sons. There is not a misery, there is not a want, 
that I have not experienced. To my enemies you 
have allowed the fullest scope of accusation— to me you 
deny the least opportunity of defence. Not an hour will 
you now indulge me in preparing for my trial. You 
have swallowed the blackest calumnies against me. 
You have represented me as a heretic, without know- 
ing my doctrine ; as an enemy to the faith, before you 
knew what faith I professed; as a persecutor of priests, 
before you could have an opportunity of understanding 
my sentiments on that head. You are a general coun- 
cil : in you centre all this world can communicate of 
gravity, wisdom, and sanctity : but still you are men, 
and men are seducible by appearances. The higher 

your character is for wisdom, the greater ought your 

3* 



58 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

care to be not to deviate into folly. The cause I now 
plead is not my own cause : it is the cause of men ; it is 
the cause of Christians ; it is a cause which is to affect 
the rights of posterity, however the experiment is to be 
made in my person." 

This speech had not the least effect ; he was obliged 
to hear the charge read, which was reduced under the 
following heads : 1. That he was a derider of the papal 
dignity; 2. An opposer of the pope; 3. An enemy to 
the cardinals ; 4. A persecutor of the prelates ; 5. A 
hater of the Christian religion. 

The trial of Jerome was brought on the third day after 
his accusation, and witnesses were examined in support 
of the charge. The prisoner was prepared for his de- 
fence, which appears almost incredible, when we con- 
sider he had been three hundred and forty days shut up 
in loathsome prisons, deprived of daylight, and almost 
starved for want of common necessaries. But his spirit 
soared above these disadvantages, under w T hich a man 
less animated would have sunk ; nor was he more at a 
loss for quotations from the fathers. and ancient authors, 
than if he had been furnished with the finest library. 

The most bigoted of the assembly were unwilling he 
should be heard, knowing what effect eloquence is apt to 
have on the minds of the most prejudiced. At length, 
however, it was carried by the majority, that he should 
have liberty to proceed in his defence, which he began 
in such an exalted strain of moving elocution, that the 
heart of obdurate zeal was seen to melt, and the mind of 
superstition seemed to admit a ray of conviction. He 
made an admirable distinction between evidence as rest- 
ing upon facts, and as supported by malice and calumny. 
He laid before the assembly the whole tenor of his life 
and conduct. He observed that the greatest and most 
holy men had been known to differ in points of specula- 
tion, with a view to distinguish truth, not to keep it con- 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 59 

cealed. He expressed a noble contempt of all his ene- 
mies, who would have induced him to retract the cause 
of virtue and truth. He entered upon a high encomium 
of Huss ; and declared he was ready to follow him in 
the glorious track of martyrdom. He then touched upon 
the most defensible doctrines of WicKf ; and concluded 
with observing that it was far from his intention to ad- 
vance anything against the state of the Church of God — 
that it was only against the abuse of the clergy he com- 
plained, and that he could not help saying, it was cer- 
tainly impious that the patrimony of the Church, which 
was originally intended for the purpose of charity and 
universal benevolence, should be prostituted to the pride 
of the eye, in feasts, foppish vestments, and other re- 
proaches to the name and profession of Christianity. 

The trial being over, Jerome received the same sen- 
tence that had been passed upon his martyred country- 
man. In consequence of this, he was, in the usual style 
of popish affectation, delivered over to the civil power : 
but as he was a layman, he had not to undergo the cere- 
mony of degradation. They had prepared a cap of 
paper painted with red devils, which being put upon his 
head, he said, " Our Lord Jesus Christ, when he suffered 
death for me, a most miserable sinner, did wear a crown 
of thorns upon his head, and for his sake will I wear 
this cap." 

Two days were allowed him in hopes that he would 
recant ; in which time the cardinal of Florence used his 
utmost endeavours to bring him over. But they all 
proved ineffectual. Jerome was resolved to seal the 
doctrine with his blood ; and he suffered death with the 
most distinguished magnanimity. 

In going to the place of execution he sung several 
hymns, and when he came to the spot, which was the 
same where Huss had been burnt, he knelt down, and 
prayed fervently. He embraced the stake with great 



60 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

cheerfulness, and when they went behind him to set fire 
to the fagots, he said, " Come here, and kindle it before 
my eyes ; for if I had been afraid of it, I had not come 
to this place." The fire being kindled, he sung a hymn, 
but was soon interrupted by the flames; and the last 
words he was heard to say were these : " This soul in 
flames 1 offer, Christ, to thee." 



15. ESCH AND VOES. 

The convent of the Augustines at Antwerp contained 
within it many monks, who hailed with joy the truths 
of the Gospel as taught by Luther. Several of them 
had passed some time in Wittemberg ; and subsequently 
to 1519, the doctrine of salvation by grace alone had 
been preached in their churches with unusual power. 
Toward the close of the year 1521, the prior and one 
of the most distinguished of the monks were arrested. 
The prior recanted, while the other found means to 
appease his judges, and escaped condemnation. These 
proceedings no way overawed the monks ; but they con- 
tinued to preach the Gospel with earnestness. The 
people crowded to their church in such numbers that 
it was unable to contain them. 

In October, 1522, the storm of persecution burst forth 
upon them — the convent was closed ; the monks im- 
prisoned, and sentenced to die. The sacred vessels 
were publicly sold, the entrance to the church barri- 
caded, and the holy sacrament carried forth as if from 
a place of pollution. An order was given that not one 
stone should be left upon another of that heretical 
monastery. " The cause," said Luther, when he heard 
of these things, "is no longer a mere trial of strength; 
it demands the sacrifice of our lives, and must be ce- 
mented by our blood." Esch and Voes, two of the 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 61 

younger monks, evaded for a time the search of the 
inquisitors ; but were at length discovered, put in chains, 
a,nd conducted to Brussels. When summoned into the 
presence of the inquisitors, it was demanded, " Do you 
retract your opinion that the priest has no power to for- 
give sins, but that that power belongs to God alone V 
and then several other Gospel truths they were required 
to abjure, were enumerated. 

They firmly replied, "No, we will retract nothing; 
we will not disown God's word ; we will rather die for 
the faith.'' 

" Confess that you have been deceived by Luther," 
said the inquisitor. 

They replied, " As the apostles were deceived by 
Jesus Christ." 

The inquisitors then said, "We declare you to be 
heretics, worthy of being burned alive ; and we deliver 
you over to the secular arm." 

The council having delivered them bound to the exe- 
cutioner, Hockstratin, and three other inquisitors, ac- 
companied them to the place of execution. Arriving at 
the scaffold, the young martyrs contemplated it with 
calmness. Their constancy, their piety, and their 
youth, drew tears from the inquisitors themselves. 
When they were bound to the stake, the confessors 
drew near, — " Once more we ask you if you will re- 
ceive the Christian faith?" 

"We believe," said they, "in the Christian Church, 
but not in your Church." 

Half an hour then elapsed. It was a pause of hesi- 
tation. A hope had been cherished that the near pros- 
pect of such a death would intimidate these youths. 
But alone tranquil of all the crowd that thronged the 
square, they began to sing psalms, — stopping once in a 
while to declare that they were resolved to die for the 
name of Jesus Christ. 



62 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

" Be converted ! be converted I" cried the inquisitors, 
" or you will die in the name of the devil." 

" No," answered the martyrs ; " we will die like Chris- 
tians, and for the truth of the Gospel." 

The pile was then lighted. While the flame slowly 
ascended, a heavenly peace dilated their hearts; and 
one of them could even say, " I seem to be on a bed 
of roses." The solemn hour was come ; death was at 
hand. They cried with a loud voice, " Lord Jesus, 
thou Son of David, have mercy on us !" and then be- 
gan to recite their creed. At last the flames reached 
them ; but the fire consumed the cords which fastened 
them to the stake before their breath was gone. One 
of them feeling his liberty, dropped upon his knees in 
the midst of the flames, and clasped his hands, exclaim- 
ing, " Lord Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on us !" 
When their bodies were wrapped in flame, they shouted 
aloud, " Te Deum laudamusT Soon their voices were 
stifled, — and their ashes alone remained. The execu- 
tion occurred on the 1st of July, 1523, and lasted four 
hours. These were the first martyrs of the Refor- 
mation. 

All good men shuddered when they heard of these 
events. The future was big with fearful anticipations. 
" The executions have begun," said Erasmus. " At 
length," exclaimed Luther, " Christ is gathering some 
fruits of our preaching, and preparing new martyrs." 
A noble harvest, says the historian, sprung up from the 
blood of these martyrs. Brussels manifested a willing- 
ness to receive the Gospel. This occasioned Erasmus 
to remark, " Wherever Alexander lights a pile, there it 
seems as if he had sowed heretics." 



SEC. L] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 63 



16. HENRY ZUPHTEN. 

When the convent at Antwerp was broken up, Henry 
Zuphten was rescued by the courage of some women, 
from the hands of the executioners. Subsequently he 
was engaged in preaching the Gospel at Bremen. 

Nicholas Boye, pastor at Mehldorf, in the country of 
the Dittinarches, and several devout persons of the 
neighbouring districts, having invited him to come over 
and declare Jesus Christ, he complied. Immediately, 
the prior of the Dominicans and the vicar of the official 
of Hamburg concerted measures. " If he is allowed fco 
preach, and the people give ear," said they, "we are 
undone." The prior passed a disturbed night; and, 
rising early in the morning, repaired to the wild and 
barren heath on which the forty- eight regents of the 
country were accustomed to hold their meetings. " The 
monk from Bremen is come among us," said he, ad- 
dressing them, " and will bring ruin on the Dittmarches." 
Those forty- eight simple-minded and unlearned men, 
deceived into the belief that they would earn imperish- 
able renown by delivering the world from the heretical 
monk, decided on putting him to death without so much 
as giving him a hearing. 

It was Saturday — and the prior was bent on prevent- 
ing Henry's preaching on the following Sunday. In 
the middle of the night he knocked at the door of the 
pastor Boye, armed with the mandate of the forty- eight 
regents. " If it be the will of God that I should die 
among the Dittmarches," said Henry Zuphten, " heaven 
is as easily reached from thence as from anywhere else. 
I will preach." 

He ascended the pulpit, and spoke with earnestness. 
His hearers, moved and roused by his Christian elo- 



64 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

quence, had scarcely quitted the church, when the prior 
delivered to them the mandate of the forty-eight regents 
forbidding the monk to preach. <£Fhey immediately sent 
a deputation to the heath, and the Dittmarches, after 
long discussion, agreed that, considering their total 
ignorance, further measures should be deferred till 
Easter. But the prior, irritated at this, approached 
certain of the regents, and stirred up their zeal afresh. 

" We will write to him," said they. 

"Have nothing to do with him," replied the prior; 
" if he begins to speak, we shall not be able to withstand 
him. We must seize him during the night, and burn 
him without giving him time to open his lips." 

Everything was arranged accordingly. The day after 
Conception Day, at nightfall, Ave Maria was rung. At 
the signal, all the peasants of the adjacent villages 
assembled, to the number of five hundred, and their 
leaders having broached three butts of Hamburg beer, 
by this means stimulated their resolution. The hour 
of midnight struck as the party entered Mehldorf ; the 
peasants were under arms ; the monks carried torches ; 
all went forward in disorder, exchanging shouts of fury. 
Arrived at the village, there was a deep silence lest 
Henry, receiving intimation of danger, should effect his 
escape. 

Of a sudden the gates of the parsonage were burst 
open — the drunken peasantry rushed within, striking 
everything in their way — tossing pell-mell, dishes, ket- 
tles, cups, and articles of apparel. They seized any 
money that they could find, and then rushing on the 
poor pastor, they struck him down, shouting, " Kill 
him! kill him!" and then threw him into the mud. 
But Henry was their chief object in the attack. They 
pulled him out of bed, tied his hands behind him, and 
dragged him after them, naked as he was, in the piercing 
cold. " What are you come here for ?" cried they ; and 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 65 

as Henry answered meekly, they exclaimed, "Down 
with him ! down with him ! if we listen to him we shall 
become heretics like himself.''* They had dragged him 
naked over ice and snow, his feet were bleeding pro- 
fusely, and he begged to be set on horseback. " A fine 
thing, truly," said they, "for us to furnish horses for 
heretics. On, on !" — and they continued dragging him 
behind them till they arrived at the heath. A woman, 
who stood at the door of the house just as the servant 
of God was passing, burst into tears. " My good wo- 
man," said Henry, "weep not for me." The bailiff 
pronounced his sentence. Then one of his ferocious 
escort, with a sword, smote the preacher of Jesus Christ 
on the head. Another struck him with a club. A 
monk was ordered to approach and receive his con- 
fession. 

"My brother," said Henry, "have I done you any 
wrong?" 

".None," replied the monk. 

" Then," returned Henry, " I have nothing to confess 
to you ; and you have nothing to forgive." 

The monk retired in confusion. Many attempts were 
made to set fire to the pile ; but the wood would not 
catch. For two hours the martyr stood thus in pre- 
sence of the infuriated peasantry — calm, and lifting his 
eyes to heaven. While they were binding him, that 
they might cast him into the flame, he began to confess 
his faith. "First burn," said a countryman, dealing 
him a blow with his fist on the mouth; "burn; and 
after that, speak." They threw him on the pile; but 
he rolled down on one side. John Holme, seizing a 
club, struck him upon the breast, and laid him dead 
upon the burning coals. 



66 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



17. THE TWO WIRTHS. 

Stammheim was the residence of the deputy-bailiff 
Wirth, whose two. eldest sons, John and Adrian, young 
priests, full of piety and courage, were zealously en- 
gaged in preaching the Gospel. Anna, the mother, had 
reared a numerous family in the fear of God, and was 
herself revered for her virtues the whole country round. 
The deputy-bailiff and his two sons had long been ob- 
jects of special dislike on account of their faith. Upon 
some trifling pretext, a band of soldiers was sent from 
Zurich to arrest them. Rutiman, the bailiff of Nuss- 
baum, shared their confinement. By the authority of 
Zurich they were surrendered to the Diet, and conveyed 
to Baden. This was in August, 1524. 

On the evening, the prisoners arrived at Baden, where 
an immense crowd was awaiting to receive them. They 
were taken first to an inn, and afterwards to the jail. 
The people pressed so closely round to see them that 
they could scarcely move. The father, who walked first, 
turned round toward his sons, and meekly said, — " See, 
my dear children, we are like those of whom the apostle 
speaks — men appointed to death, a spectacle to the 
world, to angels, and to men." (1 Cor. iv, 9.) Just 
then he chanced to observe among the crowd the bailiff 
Am-Berg, his mortal enemy, and the prime author of 
all his misfortunes. He went up to him, held out his 
hand, and, grasping Am-Berg's, — though the bailiff 
would have turned awaj^, — said, with much composure, 
" There is a God above us, and he knows all things." 

The examination began the next morning. Wirth, 
the father, was the first who was brought before the 
tribunal. Without the least consideration for his cha- 
racter or for his age, he was put to the torture ; but he 



SEC. LI CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 67 

persisted in declaring that he was innocent both of the 
pillage and the burning of Ittingen. A charge was then 
brought against him of having destroyed an image re- 
presenting St. Anne. As to the other prisoners, no- 
thing could be substantiated against them, except that 
Adrian Wirth was married, and that he was accustomed 
to preach after the manner of Zwingle and Luther ; and 
that John Wirth had given the holy sacrament to a sick 
man without candle or bell." 

But the more conclusively their innocence was esta- 
blished, the more furious became the excitement of their 
adversaries. From morning till noon of that day, the 
old man was made to endure all the severity of torture. 
His tears were of no avail to soften the hearts of his 
judges. John Wirth was still more cruelly tormented. 
" Tell us," said they, in the midst of his agonies, "from 
whom didst thou learn thy heretical creed? Was it 
Zwingle, or who else, that taught it thee?" And when 
he was heard to exclaim, " merciful and everlasting 
God, grant me help and comfort!" "Aha!" said one 
of the deputies, "where is your Christ now?" When 
Adrian was brought forward, Sebastian von Stein, a 
deputy of Berne, addressed him thus: — "Young man, 
tell us the truth ; for if you refuse to do so, I swear by 
my knighthood, — the knighthood I received on the very 
spot where God suffered martyrdom, — we will open all 
the veins in your body, one by one." The young man 
was then hoisted up by a cord ; and while he was swing- 
ing in the air, " Young man," said Stein, with a fiend- 
ish smile, "this is our wedding-gift;" alluding to the 
marriage which the youthful ecclesiastic had recently 
contracted. 

The examination being now concluded, the deputies 
returned to their several cantons to make their report, 
and did not assemble again until four weeks had ex- 
pired. The bailiff's wife — the mother of the two young 



68 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

priests— repaired to Baden, carrying a child in her 
arms, to appeal to the compassion of the judges. John 
Escher, of Zurich, accompanied her as her advocate. 
The latter recognised among the judges Jerome Stocker, 
the landamrnan of Zug, who had twice been bailiff of 
Frauenfeld. 

"Landamrnan," said he, accosting him, "you remem- 
ber the bailiff Wirth ; you know that he has always been 
an honest man." 

"It is most true, my good friend Escher," replied 
Stocker; "he never did any one an injury: country- 
men and strangers alike were sure to find a hearty wel- 
come at his table; his house was a convent, — inn, — 
hospital, all in one. And knowing this, as I do, had 
he committed a robbery or a murder, I would have 
spared no effort to obtain his pardon ; but since he has 
burned St. Anne, the grandmother of Christ, it is but 
right that he should die." 

" Then God take pity on us !" ejaculated Escher. 

The gates were now shut, (this was on the 28th of 
September,) and the deputies of Berne, Lucerne, Uri, 
Schwitz, Underwald, Zug, Glaris, Friburg, and Soleure, 
having proceeded, agreeably to usage, to deliberate on 
their judgment with closed doors, sentence of death was 
passed upon the bailiff Wirth, his son John, who, of all 
the accused, was the firmest in his faith, and who ap- 
peared to have gained over the others, and the bailiff 
Rutiman. They spared the life of Adrian, the 
younger of Wirth's sons, as a boon to his weeping 
mother. 

The prisoners were now brought forth from the tower 
in which they had been confined. 

"My son," said the father to Adrian, "we die an 
undeserved death ; but never do thou think of aveng- 
ing it." 

Adrian wept bitterly, 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 69 

" My brother," said John, " where Christ's word comes 
his cross must follow." 

After the sentence had been read to them, the three 
Christian sufferers were led back to prison ; John Wirth 
walking first, the two bailiffs next, and a vicar behind 
them. As they crossed the castle bridge, on which 
there was a chapel dedicated to St. Joseph, the vicar 
called out to the two old men, — " Fall on your knees, 
and invoke the saints." 

At these words, John Wirth, turning round, said, 
" Father, be firm. You know there is but one Mediator 
between God and man — Christ Jesus." 

"Assuredly, my son," replied the old man; "and by 
the help of His grace I will continue faithful to him, 
even to the end." 

On this, they all three began to repeat the Lord's 
prayer, " Our Father who art in heaven." . . . And so 
they crossed the bridge. 

They were next conducted to the scaffold. John 
Wirth, whose heart was filled with the tenderest solici- 
tude for his father, bade him a solemn farewell. 

"My beloved father," said he, "henceforth thou art 
my father no longer, and I am no longer thy son ; but 
we are brothers still in Christ our Lord, for whose 
name's sake we are doomed to suffer death. So now, 
if such be God's will, my beloved brother, let us depart 
to be with him who is the father of us all. Fear no- 
thing !" 

"Amen!" answered the old man, "and may God 
Almighty bless thee, my beloved son, and brother in 
Christ." 

Thus, on the threshold of eternity, did father and son 
take their leave of each other, with joyful anticipations 
of that unseen state in which they should be united anew 
by imperishable ties. There were but few among the 
multitude around whose tears did not flow profusely. 



70 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

The bailiff Rutiman prayed in silence. All three then 
knelt down " in Christ's name," — and their heads were 
severed from their bodies. 



18. JOHN LECLERC. 

On the 12th of April, 1523, an ordinance of the bishop 
deprived the evangelical ministers of Meaux of their 
licenses to preach, and compelled them to seek safety 
abroad. Those who had received the truth then sought 
to edify one another. Prominent among them for piety, 
intelligence, boldness, and zeal, was Leclerc, a poor 
wool- comber. He was one of those men whom the 
Spirit of God inspires with courage, and places foremost 
in the rank of a religious movement. He began to visit 
from house to house, strengthening and confirming the 
disciples in their faith. Having rashly posted a placard 
against antichrist at the door of the cathedral, the priests 
were excited to the highest degree of indignation. 
u What !" exclaimed they, " shall a base wool-comber 
be allowed to assail the pope?" The Franciscans 
were furious. They insisted that at least on this occa- 
sion a terrible example should be made. Leclerc was 
first thrown into prison, then condemned to be pub- 
licly whipped through the city three successive 
days, and on the third day to be branded on the 
forehead. 

The mournful spectacle began. Leclerc was led 
through the streets, his hands bound, his back bare, 
and receiving from the executioners the blows he had 
drawn upon himself by his opposition to the bishop of 
Rome. A great crowd followed the martyr's progress, 
which was marked by his blood: some pursued the 
heretic with yells; others, by their silence, gave no 
doubtful signs of sympathy with him ; and one woman 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 71 

encouraged the martyr by her looks and words— she 
was his mother. 

At length, on the third day, when the bloody pro- 
cession was over, Leclerc was made to stop at the usual 
place of execution. The executioner prepared the fire, 
heated the iron which w T as to sear the flesh of the minis- 
ter of the Gospel, and, approaching him, branded him 
as a heretic on his forehead. Just then a shriek was 
uttered — but it came not from the martyr. His mother, 
a witness of the dreadful sight, wrung with anguish, 
endured a violent struggle between the enthusiasm of 
faith and maternal feelings; but her faith overcame, 
and she exclaimed, in a voice that made the adver- 
saries tremble, " Glory be to Jesus Christ and his wit- 
nesses." Thus did this Frenchwoman of the sixteenth 
century have respect to that word of the Son of God, 
" Whosoever loveth his son more than me is not worthy 
of me." So daring a courage at such a moment might 
have seemed to demand instant punishment; but that 
Christian mother had struck powerless the hearts of 
priests and soldiers. Their fury was restrained by a 
mightier arm than theirs. The crowd falling back and 
making way for her, allowed the mother to regain, with 
faltering step, her humble dwelling. Monks, and even 
the town- Serjeants themselves, gazed on her without 
moving; "not one of her enemies," says Theodore 
Beza, " dared put forth his hand against her." After 
this punishment, Leclerc, being set at liberty, withdrew, 
first to Rosay en Brie, a town six leagues from Meaux, 
and subsequently to Metz, in Lorraine. " And there," 
says Theodore Beza, "he acted on the example of St. 
Paul, who/while labouring at Corinth as a tent-maker, 
persuaded both the Jews and the Greeks." Having his 
spirit stirred within him at the idolatry of the people, 
he broke down the images in one of their chapels, and 
scattered the fragments before the altar. This passage 



72 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

had been impressed upon his mind as though uttered 
by the voice of God to him, " Thou shalt not bow down 
to their gods ; but thou shalt utterly overthrow them, 
and quite break down their images." Exod. xxiii, 24. 
And he did not doubt but that he was moved by the 
special inspiration of the Spirit of God to perform this 
apparently rash act. The excitement was intense. 
"Death — death to the sacrilegious wretch," resounded 
on all sides. Leclerc was seized ; but instead of attempt- 
ing to defend himself, he exhorted the people to worship 
God alone. This appeal only inflamed the fury of the 
multitude to a still higher pitch, and they would will- 
ingly have dragged him to instant execution. When 
placed before his judges, nothing daunted, he coura- 
geously declared that Jesus Christ — God manifest in 
the flesh — ought to be the sole object of worship. He 
was sentenced to be burnt to death, and conducted to 
the place of execution. 

Here an awful scene awaited him: his persecutors 
had been devising all that could render his sufferings 
more dreadful. At the scaffold, they were engaged 
heating pincers, as instruments of their cruelty. Le- 
clerc heard with calm composure the savage yells of 
monks and people. They began by cutting off his right 
hand; then taking up the red-hot pincers, they tore 
away his nose; after this, with the same instrument, 
they lacerated his arms ; and having thus mangled him 
in many places, they ended by applying the burnings 
to his breasts. All the while that the cruelty of his 
enemies was venting itself on his body, his soul was 
kept in perfect peace. He ejaculated solemnly, — 
" Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men's 
hands. They have mouths, but they speak not ; eyes 
have they, but they see not ; they have ears, but they 
hear not; noses have they, but they smell not; they 
have hands, but they handle not; feet have they, but 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 73 

they walk not ; neither speak they through their throat. 
They that make them are like unto them ; so is every 
one that trusteth in them. Israel, trust thou in the 
Lord; he is their help and their shield." The enemies 
were awed by the sight of so much composure ; be- 
lievers were confirmed in their faith; and the people, 
whose indignation had vented itself in the first burst of 
anger, were astonished and affected. After undergoing 
these tortures, Leclerc was burned by a slow fire in con- 
formity to the sentence. Such was the death of the first 
martyr of the Gospel in France. 



19. SCHUCH. 

Towards the end of the year 1524, information was 
conveyed to "Anthony the Good" that a pastor, named 
Schuch, was preaching the evangelical doctrine in St. 
Hippolyte. " Let them return to their duty," was his 
stern reply, " or I will march against the town, and lay 
it waste with fire and sword." The faithful pastor re- 
solved to sacrifice himself for his flock, and forthwith 
repaired to the city of Nancy, where the duke resided. 
Immediately on his arrival, he was lodged in a noisome 
prison, under the custody of brutal and cruel men. 
Bonaveiiture, the infamous confessor of the duke, now 
had the heretic in his power. He presided at the tri- 
bunal before which Schuch was examined. Addressing 
the prisoner, he cried out, " Heretic ! Judas ! ! Devil ! ! !" 
Schuch, preserving the utmost tranquillity and com- 
posure, made no reply to these insults ; but holding in 
his hand a little Bible, all covered with notes which he 
had written in it, he meekly and earnestly confessed 
Jesus Christ and him crucified. On a sudden, he as- 
sumed a more animated mien, — stood up boldly, raised 
his voice as if moved by the Spirit from on high, — and, 

4 



74 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

looking his judges in the face, denounced against them 
the fearful judgments of God. 

Brother Bonaventure and his companions, inwardly- 
appalled, yet agitated with rage, rushed upon him at 
once with vehement cries, snatched away the Bible, 
from which he read those menacing words, — and 
"raging like so many mad dogs," says the chronicler, 
" because they could not wreak their fury on the doc- 
trine, carried the book to their convent, and burnt it 
there." 

The whole court of Lorraine resounded with the ob- 
stinacy and presumption of the minister of St. Hippo- 
lyte ; and the prince, impelled by curiosity to hear the 
heretic, resolved to be present at his final examination, 
secretly, however, and concealed from the view of the 
spectators. But as the interrogatory was conducted in 
Latin, he could not understand it ; only he was struck 
with the steadfast aspect of the minister, who seemed to 
be neither vanquished nor abashed. Indignant at this 
obstinacy, Anthony the Good started from his seat, and 
said, as he retired, " Why dispute any longer? He de- 
nies the sacrament of the mass ; let them proceed to 
execution against him." Schuch was immediately con- 
demned to be burned alive. When the sentence was 
communicated to him, he lifted up his eyes to heaven, 
and mildly made answer, " I was glad when they said 
unto me, Let us go into the house of the Lord." 

On the 19th of August, 1525, the whole city of Nancy 
was in motion. The bells gave notice of the death of a 
heretic. The mournful procession set out. It must 
pass before the convent of the Cordeliers, and there the 
whole fraternity were gathered in joyful expectation 
before the door. As soon as Schuch made his appear- 
ance, Father Bonaventure, pointing to the carved images 
over the convent gateway, cried out, "Heretic, pay 
honour to God ; his mother, and the saints." 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 75 

" hypocrites !" replied Schuch, standing erect before 
those pieces of wood and stone, " God will destroy you, 
and bring your deceits to light." 

When the martyr reached the place of execution, his 
books were first burnt in his presence, and then he w T as 
called upon to recant : but he refused, saying, " Thou, 
God, hast called me, and thou wilt strengthen me to the 
end;" and immediately he began, with a loud voice, to 
repeat the fifty-first Psalm, " Have mercy upon me, 
God, according to thy loving-kindness l" Having 
mounted the pile, he continued to recite the Psalm 
until the smoke and flames stifled his voice. 



20. THE HERMIT OF LIVRY. 

In the forest of Livry, three leagues distant from Paris, 
and not far from the site of an ancient abbey of the 
order of St. Augustin, lived a hermit, who, having 
chanced in his wanderings to fall in with some of the 
men of Meaux, had received the truth of the Gospel 
into his heaxt. The poor hermit had felt himself rich 
indeed that day in his solitary retreat, when, along with 
the scanty dole of bread which public charity had af- 
forded him, he brought home Jesus Christ and his grace. 
He understood from that time how much better it is to 
give than to receive. He went from cottage to cottage 
in the villages around, and as soon as he crossed the 
threshold, began to speak to the poor peasants of the 
Gospel, and the free pardon which it offers to every 
burdened soul, — a pardon infinitely more precious than 
any priestly absolution. The good hermit of Livry was 
soon widely known in the neighbourhood of Paris ; many 
came to visit him at his poor hermitage, and he dis- 
charged the office of a kind and faithful missionary to 
the simple-minded in all the adjacent districts. 



76 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

It was not long before intelligence of what was doing 
by the new evangelist reached the ears of the Sorbonne, 
and the magistrates of Paris. The hermit was seized, 
— dragged from his hermitage — from his forest — from 
the fields he had daily traversed, — thrown into a dun- 
geon in that great city which he had always shunned, — 
brought to judgment, — convicted, — and sentenced to 
"the exemplary punishment of being burnt by a slow 
fire." 

In order to render the example the more striking, it 
was determined that he should be burnt in the close of 
Notre Dame — before that celebrated cathedral, which 
typifies the majesty of the Roman Catholic Church. 
The whole of the clergy were convened, and a degree 
of pomp was 'displayed equal to that of the most solemn 
festivals. A desire was shown to attract all Paris, if 
possible, to the place of execution. " The great bell of 
the church of Notre Dame swinging heavily," says an 
historian, "to rouse the people all over Paris." And 
accordingly from every surrounding avenue, the people 
came flocking to the spot. The cleep-toned reverbera- 
tions of the bell made the workman quit his task, the 
student cast aside his books, the shop-keeper forsake 
his traffic, the soldier start from the guard-room bench, 
— -and already the close was filled with a dense crowd, 
which was continually increasing. The hermit, attired 
in the robes appropriated to obstinate heretics, bare- 
headed, and with bare feet, was led out before the doors 
of the cathedral. Tranquil, firm, and collected, he 
replied to the exhortations of the confessors, who pre- 
sented him with the crucifix, only by declaring that his 
hope rested solely on the mercy of God. The doctors 
of the Sorbonne, who stood in the front rank of the 
spectators, observing his constancy, and the effect it 
produced upon the people, cried aloud, " He is a man 
foredoomed to the fires of hell." The clang of the great 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 77 

bell, which all this while was rung with a rolling stroke, 
w T hile it stunned the ears of the multitude, served to 
heighten the solemnity of that mournful spectacle. At 
length the bell was silent, — and the martyr having an- 
swered the last interrogatory of his adversaries by say- 
ing that he was resolved to die in the faith of his Lord 
Jesus Christ, underwent his sentence of being " burnt 
by a slow fire." And so, in the cathedral close of 
Notre Dame, beneath the stately towers erected by the 
piety of Louis the younger, amidst the cries and tumul- 
tuous excitement of a vast population, died peaceably, 
a man whose name history has not deigned to transmit 
to us, — " the hermit of Livry." 



21. JOHN LAMBERT. 

John Lambert was born in Norfolk, educated at Cam- 
bridge, and became a preacher to the English merchants 
at Antwerp. Here he was ensnared by the minions of 
popery and conveyed to London about the year 1532. 
After undergoing an examination before the archbishop 
Warham, he was confined in prison, where he remained 
till after the death of the bishop. 

In 1538, his opinion of the nature of the Lord's sup- 
per became a subject of public notoriety. Gardiner, 
then bishop of Winchester — a man of infamous memory 
— seized upon the occasion to instil into the mind of the 
King, Henry VIII., that he had now an opportunity to 
clear himself from the aspersions which his opposition 
to the Romish hierarchy had brought upon him, if he 
would proceed vigorously against John Lambert for 
heresy. The king hearkened to this advice, and sent 
out a general commission, commanding his nobles and 
bishops to assemble in London to assist him against 
heretics and heresies, upon which he himself would sit 



78 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

in judgment. When all things were prepared, a day 
was appointed for Lambert's appearance, many of the 
nobility were there, and all the scaffolds were filled with 
spectators. At length the faithful servant of Christ was 
brought from prison w T ith a guard of armed men, and 
was placed opposite the king's seat, who came as the 
judge of that controversy; on his right hand sat the 
bishops, behind the lawyers, and on the left hand the 
peers of the realm. Henry, turning to his counsellors, 
commanded the bishop of Exeter to declare to the peo- 
ple the cause of their assembling. He informed the 
multitude, that though the king had abolished the autho- 
rity of the bishop of Rome, yet that he would not have 
any suppose he intended to extinguish religion, or to 
give liberty to heretics to disturb the Church's peace ; 
and that his purpose was to refute the heresies of the 
prisoner then before them, and other similar heretics, 
and openly to condemn them in the presence of them all. 
The bishop having ended his oration, the king stood 
up, and with bent brows looking upon Lambert, de- 
manded of him what was his name. Kneeling down, 
he meekly said, "My name is John Nicholson, though 
ordinarily I am called Lambert." After various ques- 
tions and answers, Henry ordered him to declare his 
opinion about the sacrament of the altar ; he then gave 
God thanks, who had inclined the heart of the king him- 
self to hear, and understand the cause of religion : but 
the king with an angry voice interrupted him, saying, 
"I came not hither to hear mine own praises, therefore 
briefly go to the matter, without any more circum- 
stances." Alarmed by these angry words, he paused 
awhile, considering what he should do in such an ex- 
tremity. The king, still more incensed at his delay, 
cried out in great fury, "Why standest thou still? 
Answer what thy judgment is about the sacrament of 
the altar." Lambert first quoted Augustine's opinion, 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 79 

and then plainly denied that it was the body of Christ. 
Archbishop Cranmer then, at the king's command, 
argued the point with him ; but the answers of the pri- 
soner were so acute, and his arguments so conclusive, 
that the archbishop was unable to cope with him. This 
greatly excited the king and amazed the people. Gar- 
diner broke in upon the argument, with taunts and jeers; 
and also others, till no less than ten bishops had pressed 
the prisoner with their arguments. At length, wearied 
with his long standing, which had continued five hours, 
afflicted with the taunts and indignities he had received, 
and seeing no hope that the truth would prevail or have 
even a decent hearing, Lambert resolved to say no 
more. 

The king then said to him : " What sayest thou after 
all this pains taken with thee? Wilt thou live or die? 
What sayest thou ? Thou hast j^et free choice." He 
answered, " I submit myself wholly to the will of your 
majesty." The king replied, " Commit thyself into the 
hands of God, not of me." To which the martyr an- 
swered, " I commend my soul into the hands of God, 
but my body I wholly submit to your clemency.'' Then 
said the king, " If you commit yourself to my judgment 
you must die ; for I will be no patron to heretics." He 
then commanded that the sentence of condemnation 
should be read. 

Upon the day appointed for this holy martyr to suffer, 
he was brought out of prison by eight o'clock in the 
morning. When the hour of death came, he found much 
joy and comfort in his soul. Coming out of the cham- 
ber into the hall, he saluted the gentlemen, and sat down 
to breakfast with them, after which he was soon con- 
veyed to Smithfield, the place of execution When his 
legs were burned to the stumps, the wretched tormen- 
tors withdrew the fire from him, leaving but a small fire, 
and coals under him : after this two of them thrust their 



80 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

halberds into his sides, with which they lifted him up as 
far as the chain would permit. At this time of extreme 
misery the holy sufferer lifting up his hands, while his 
fingers' ends were flaming with fire, said, " None but 
Christ — none but Christ!" Being let down, he fell into 
the fire, where he ended his sorrows, and his spirit fled 
to the joy of his Lord. 



22. ANN ASKEW. 

Sir William Askew, of Kelsay, in Lincolnshire, was 
blessed with several daughters. His second, named 
Ann, had received a genteel education, which, with an 
agreeable person and good understanding, rendered her 
a very proper person to be at the head of a family. 
Her father, regardless of his daughter's inclination and 
happiness, obliged her to marry a gentleman who had 
nothing to recommend him but his fortune, and who was 
a most bigoted papist. 2>!o sooner was he convinced of 
his wife's regard for the doctrines of the reformation 
from popery, than, by the instigation of the priests, he 
violently drove her from his house, though she had borne 
him two children, and her conduct was unexceptionable. 
Abandoned by her husband, she came up to London in 
order to procure a divorce; but here she was cruelly 
betrayed by him, and, upon his information, taken into 
custody, and examined concerning her faith. After 
undergoing an examination before an inquisitor, and also 
before Bonner, through the importunity of friends she 
was liberated upon bail. 

Some time after she was again apprehended, and car- 
ried before the king's council. The lord chancellor 
asked her opinion about the sacrament : she answered, 
that she believed, that so often as she received the bread 
in remembrance of Christ's death, she received the fruits 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 81 

of his most glorious passion. The bishop of Winches- 
ter ordered her to give a more direct reply. She an- 
swered, she would not sing the Lord's song in a strange 
land. The bishop told her she was a parrot. After 
much other debate she was imprisoned till the next day, 
when they again inquired what she said to the sacra- 
ment : she answered, that she had said what she could 
say. Gardiner with some others, earnestly persuaded 
her to confess the sacrament to be the flesh, blood, and 
bone of Christ; she told two of them, that it was a great 
shame for them to counsel her contrary to their own 
knowledge : after much other arguing, they dismissed 
her. The Sabbath following she was very ill, and seem- 
ing likely to die, she desired to speak with Mr. Latimer ; 
but instead of granting this small request, ill as she w<xs, 
they sent her to Newgate. 

She was afterwards brought to trial in Guildhall, 
where she was required to recant, or be condemned as a 
heretic ; she answered that she w T as no heretic. They 
asked her if she would deny the sacrament to be Christ's 
body and blood? She said, " Yea, for Christ that was 
born of the blessed virgin is now in heaven, and will 
come from thence at the latter day. That," said she, 
" which you call your god, is but a piece of bread, and 
after a time will grow mouldy, and turn to nothing that's 
good : therefore it cannot be God." They w T ished her 
to confess to a priest: she said she would confess her 
faults to God, for she was sure that he would hear her 
with favour. She was then condemned. 

Soon after this she w T as conveyed from Newgate, and 

again brought before Bonner, who endeavoured in vain 

to draw her from God. One Nicholas Shaxton, an 

apostate, advised her to recant. She told him it had 

been good for him if he had never been born. She was 

then sent to the tower. It was strongly suspected that 

Mrs. Askew T was favoured by some ladies of high rank. 

4* 



82 DEATH-BED SCENES.' [PAKT I. 

and that she carried on a religious correspondence with 
the queen ; so that the chancellor Wriothesley, hoping 
that he might discover something that would afford mat- 
ter of impeachment against that princess, the earl of 
Hertford, or his countess, who all favoured the Reforma- 
tion, ordered her to be put to the rack. The rack was 
placed in a dismal dungeon, down into which she was 
led and stretched on the infernal instrument of torture. 
But her fortitude in suffering, and her resolution not to 
betray her friends, were proof against that diabolical in- 
vention. Not a groan, not a word could be extorted 
from her. After she had endured these horrid torments, 
the lieutenant of the tower was about to take her out, but 
the chancellor bade him rack her again, which he refused 
to do on account of her weakness. The chancellor 
threatened to complain of him to the king, and he and 
Mr. Rich, throwing off their gowns, with their own hands, 
augmented her tortures with dreadful violence. She, 
quietly and patiently praying to God, endured their in- 
fernal cruelty till her joints and bones were pulled out 
of place. When taken from the rack she fainted away, 
but being recovered, passed above two hours on the bare 
floor, reasoning with the chancellor, who wished her to 
renounce her faith. She said, " My Lord God (I thank 
his everlasting goodness) gave me grace to persevere, 
and I hope will do so to the end." She was returned to 
Newgate, and condemned to the flames. While there, 
she wrote a confession of her faith, which she concluded 
with the following prayer : — 

" Lord, I have more enemies now than there are 
hairs of my head ; yet, Lord, let them never overcome 
me with vain words ; but fight, Lord, thou, in my stead, 
for on thee cast I my care. With all the spite they can 
imagine, they fall upon me which am thy poor creature ; 
yet, dear Lord, let me not set by them which are against 
me, for in thee is my whole delight. And, Lord, I 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 83 

heartily desire of thee, that thou wilt, of thy merciful 
goodness, forgive them that violence which they do and 
have done unto me. Open thou also their blind hearts, 
that they may hereafter do that thing in thy sight which 
is acceptable before thee, and set forth thy truth aright, 
without the vain fancies of sinful men : so be it, Lord, 
so be it." 

The day for her execution having arrived, she was 
carried in a chair to Smithfield, her bones being so dis- 
located that she was unable to walk. She was there 
fastened round the middle with a chain to the stake. 
While at it, letters were brought her from the lord chan- 
cellor, offering her the king's pardon if she would recant ; 
but she refused to look at them, telling the messenger, 
" that she came not thither to deny her Lord and Mas- 
ter." The same letters were also tendered to three other 
persons condemned to the same fate, and who, animated 
by her example, refused to accept them : whereupon the 
lord mayor commanded the fire to be kindled, and with 
savage ignorance cried out, Fiat Justitia — Let justice 
take its course. The fagots being lighted, she com- 
mended her soul, with the utmost composure, into the 
hands of her Maker, and, like the great Founder of the 
religion she professed, expired, praying for her mur- 
derers, July 16, 1546, about the twenty-fifth year of 
her age. 

" I do not know," observes a good writer, " if all cir- 
cumstances be considered, whether the history of this or 
any other nation can furnish a more illustrious example 
than this now related. To her father's will she sacrificed 
her own inclinations; to a husband unworthy of her 
affections, she behaved with prudence, respect, and 
obedience. The secrets of her friends she preserved 
inviolable even amidst the tortures of the rack. Her 
constancy of suffering, considering her age and sex, was 
equal, at least, if not superior to anything on record ; 



84 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and her piety was genuine and unaffected, of which she 
gave the most exalted proof, in dying a martyr for the 
cause of her religion and liberty of conscience." 



23. ADAM WALLACE. 

The martyrdom of Adam Wallace took place at St. 
Andrews, in Scotland, during the reign of Edward VI. 
The precise year, whether in 1547 or 1549, is uncertain. 
John Lander, was appointed to preach the sermon of 
accusation. The judges and a vast concourse of people 
being assembled in the abbey, Wallace was then called 
before them. He was apparently a simple and poor 
man. Lander told him that he was accused of preach- 
ing and teaching various blasphemies and heresies, which 
he denied, and said he taught nothing but what he found 
in the Bible, and he was ready to be judged by it. He 
was then charged with teaching that the mass is idolatry, 
and abominable in the sight of God ; and he answered, 
that he had read the Bible in three tongues, — French, 
Dutch, and English, for he had not much Latin, — and had 
demurred to the word Consecration, and could not find 
the word Mass. If it could be found in Scripture, he 
would grant his error, and submit to all lawful punish- 
ment. Then he was charged with saying, that the God 
they worshipped was only bread; but he said that he 
worshipped the three persons of the trinity in one God- 
head, yet could not tell what God they worshipped. On 
returning to what the sacrament is after consecration, he 
said, he had already answered. On repeating the whole, 
Wallace answered to them as before; and, turning to 
the lord-governor and others, he said, " If you condemn 
me for holding by God's word, my innocent blood shall 
be required at your hands, when you shall be brought 
before the judgment-seat of Christ, who is mighty to de- 



SEC. L] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 85 

fend my innocent cause, before whom you shall not deny 
it, nor yet be able to resist his wrath, to whom I refer 
the vengeance." 

jSTo more was said, but sentence was given, and he was 
delivered to the provost of Edinburgh to be burned on 
the Castle-hill. He was instantly sent to the highest 
house in the town, with irons on his legs and neck. 
Two gray friars were sent to instruct him, but he would 
not hear them ; and then two black friars, one an Eng- 
lishman, who had no commission to enter into disputa- 
tion. The dean of Roscalrigg next came to him, but he 
would hear nothing without evidence from Scripture. 
They had robbed him of his Bible as soon as he was 
condemned, and therefore he spent the night in singing 
psalms ; and his enraged keeper, upon this, plundered 
him of the rest. Next day he was kept in irons, when 
the dean came to him again, but he still referred only to 
the Scripture ; and when Terry, his ignorant keeper, 
though a minister and an imp of Satan, came, he desired 
to be alone in quiet. On being brought from the town 
to the Castle-hill to meet his doom, the common people 
said, " God have mercy upon you ;" " And on you too," 
said he. Though the provost had commanded him not 
to speak, when at the fire he said, " Let it not offend you 
that I suffer death this day for the truth's sake ; for the 
disciple is not greater than his master." The provost 
having expressed his anger, Wallace only added, " They 
will not let me speak;" on which, the cord being about 
his neck, the fire was lighted, and he firmly submitted 
to his fate. 



86 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



24. HUGH LAVERICK AND JOHN APRICE. 

These two individuals suffered martyrdom during the 
third year of the reign of Mary. The first was a painter 
by trade ; he was also a cripple, and sixty eight years 
of age. The other was blind, — dark indeed in his visual 
faculties, but intellectually and spiritually illuminated 
with the radiance of the everlasting Gospel of truth. 
These inoffensive men were informed against, and 
dragged before the bishop of London. Here they un- 
derwent examination, and boldly declared the truth, 
showing themselves worthy to tread in the footsteps of 
the Christian martyrs who had gone before them. They 
were afterwards re-examined in the consistory of St. 
Paul's, and entreated to recant; and upon their refusal, 
were sent to Fulham, where Bonner, by way of a dessert 
after dinner, condemned them to the agonies of fire. 
On the 15th of May, 1556, they were taken in a cart 
from Newgate to Stratford-le-Bow, where they were 
fastened to the stake. When Hugh Laverick was se- 
cured by the chain, having no further occasion for his 
crutch, he threw it away, saying to his fellow-martyr: 
" Be of good cheer, my brother ; for my lord of London 
is our good physician; he will heal us both shortly — 
thou of thy blindness, and me of my lameness." They 
then sank down into the flame, and were honoured with 
the martyr's crown. 



SEC. L] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS, 87 



25. BISHOPS RIDLEY AND LATIMER. 

These reverend prelates suffered martyrdom together 
on the 16th of October, 1555, at Oxford. " Pillars of 
the Church, and accomplished ornaments of human 
nature, they were the admiration of the realm, amiably 
conspicuous in their lives, and glorious in their deaths." 

Ridley was born in Northumberland, and educated at 
Cambridge, where his learning and abilities raised him 
gradually, till he became the head of Pembroke Col- 
lege. Subsequently he w T as appointed chaplain to 
Henry VIII., and bishop of Rochester, and afterwards 
w T as transferred to the see of London in the time of 
Edward VI. 

His tenacious memory, extensive erudition, impres- 
sive oratory, and indefatigable zeal in preaching, drew 
after him not only his own flock, but persons from all 
quarters, desirous of godly exhortation or reproof. His 
tender treatment of Dr. Heath, who was a prisoner with 
him during one year, in Edward's reign, evidently 
proves that he had no Catholic cruelty in his dispo- 
sition. In person, he was erect and well-proportioned ; 
in temper, forgiving; in self-mortification, severe. In 
brief, he was a pattern of godliness and virtue, and such 
he endeavoured to make men wherever he came. 

His attentive kindness was displayed particularly to 
old Mrs. Bonner, mother of Dr. Bonner, the cruel bishop 
of London. Dr. Ridley, when at his manor in Fulham, 
always invited her to his house, placed her at the head 
of his table, and treated her like his own mother ; he 
did the same by Bonner's sister and other relatives : 
but when Dr. Ridley was under persecution, Bonner 
pursued a conduct diametrically opposite, and w T ould 
have sacrificed Dr. Ridley's sister and her husband, Mr. 



88 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

George Shipside, had not Providence delivered him by 
the means of Dr. Heath, bishop of Worcester. Dr. 
Ridley was first in part converted by reading Bertram's 
book on the Sacrament, and by his conferences with 
Archbishop Cranmer and Peter Martyr. When Ed- 
ward VI. was removed from the throne, and bloody 
Mary succeeded, Bishop Ridley was immediately mark- 
ed as an object of slaughter. He was first sent to the 
Tower, and afterward, at Oxford, was consigned to the 
common prison of Bocardo. 

Bishop Latimer was the son of Hugh Latimer, of 
Thirkelson, in Leicestershire, a husbandman of repute, 
with whom he remained till he was four years old. His 
parents, finding him of acute parts, gave him a good 
education, and then sent him at fourteen to the Uni- 
versity of Cambridge, where he entered into the study 
of the school divinity of that day, and was from prin- 
ciple a zealous observer of the Romish superstitions of 
the time. In his oration, when he commenced bachelor 
of divinity, he inveighed against the reformer Melanc- 
thon, and openly declaimed against good Mr. Stafford, 
divinity lecturer in Cambridge. 

Mr. Thomas Bilney, moved by a brotherly pity to- 
wards Mr. Latimer, begged to wait upon him in his 
study, and to explain to him the groundwork of his 
(Mr. Bilney' s) faith. This blessed interview effected 
his conversion; the persecutor of Christ became his 
zealous advocate, and before Dr. Stafford died he be- 
came reconciled to him. 

Once converted, he became eager for the conversion 
of others, and commenced public preacher and private 
instructor in the university. His sermons were so 
pointed against the absurdity of praying in the Latin 
tongue, and withholding the oracles of salvation from 
the people who were to be saved by belief in them, that 
he drew upon himself the pulpit animadversions of 



SEC. L] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 89 

several of the resident friars and heads of houses, whom 
he subsequently silenced by his severe criticisms and 
eloquent arguments. At length Dr. West prohibited 
him from preaching again in the churches of the univer- 
sity ; notwithstanding which, he continued during three 
years to advocate openly the cause of Christ, and even 
his enemies confessed the power of those talents he 
possessed. Mr. Bilney remained here some time with 
Mr. Latimer, and thus the place where they frequently 
walked together obtained the name of Heretics' Hill. 

Soon after Queen Mary was proclaimed, a messenger 
was sent to summon Mr. Latimer to town, and there is 
reason to believe it was wished that he should make his 
escape. On entering Smithfield he jocosely said, that 
the place had long groaned for him. After being ex- 
amined by the council, he was committed to the Tower, 
where his cheerfulness is disptayed in the following 
anecdote: — Being kept without fire in severe frosty 
weather, his aged frame suffered so much that he told 
the lieutenant's man that if he did not look better after 
him he should deceive his master. The lieutenant, 
thinking he meant to effect his escape, came to him to 
know what he meant by this speech ; which Mr. Lati- 
mer replied to, by saying, " You, Mr. Lieutenant, doubt- 
less suppose I shall burn ; but, except you let me have 
some fire, I shall deceive your expectation, for here it 
is likely I shall be starved with cold." 

Mr. Latimer, after remaining a long time in the 
Tower, was transported to Oxford, with Cranmer and 
Ridley. He remained imprisoned till October, 1555; 
and the principal objects of all his prayers were three — 
that he might stand faithful to the doctrine he had pro- 
fessed, that God would restore his Gospel to England 
once again, and preserve the Lady Elizabeth to be 
queen : all which happened. When he stood at the 
stake without the Bocardo-gate, Oxford, with Dr. Rid- 



90 DEATN-EED SCENES. [PART I. 

ley, and fire was putting to the pile of fagots, he 
raised his eyes benignantly toward heaven, and said, 
" God is faithful, who doth not suffer us to be tempted 
above our strength." 

When they came to the stake, Dr. Ridley embraced 
Latimer fervently, and bid him be of good heart. He 
then knelt by the stake, and after earnestly praying 
together, they had a short private conversation. Dr. 
Smith then preached a short sermon against the mar- 
tyrs ; who would have answered him, but were prevented 
by Dr. Marshal, the vice-chancellor. Dr. Ridley then 
took off his gown and tippet, and gave it to his brother- 
in-law, Mr. Shipside. He gave away also many trifles 
to his weeping friends, and the populace were anxious 
to get even a fragment of his garments. Mr. Latimer 
gave nothing; and from the poverty of his garb, was 
soon stripped to his shroud, and stood venerable and 
erect, fearless of death. Dr. Ridley being unclothed to 
his shirt, the smith placed an iron chain about their 
w T aists, and Dr. Ridley bid him fasten it securely ; his 
brother having tied a bag of gunpowder about his neck, 
gave some also to Mr. Latimer. A lighted fagot was 
now laid at Dr. Ridley's feet, which caused Mr. Lati- 
mer to say, " Be of good cheer, Ridley, and play the 
man. We shall this day, by God's grace, light up such 
a candle in England as, I trust, will never be put out." 
When Dr. Ridley saw the flame approaching him, he 
exclaimed, "Into thy hands, Lord, I commend my 
spirit !" and repeated often, " Lord, receive my spirit." 
Mr. Latimer, too, ceased not to say, " Father of hea- 
ven, receive my soul !" Embracing the flame, he bathed 
his hands in it, and soon died, apparently with little 
pain; but Dr. Ridley, by the ill adjustment of the 
fagots, — which were green, and placed too high about 
the furze, — was burned much downwards. At this time, 
piteously entreating for more fire to come to him, his 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 91 

brother-in-law imprudently heaped the fagots up over 
him, which caused the fire more fiercely to burn his 
limbs, whence he literally leaped up and down under 
the fagots, exclaiming that he could not burn : indeed, 
his dreadful extremity was but too plain ; for after his 
legs were quite consumed, he showed his body and shirt 
unsinged by the flame. Crying upon God for mercy, a 
man with a bill pulled the fagots down, and when the 
flames arose, he bent himself towards that side : at 
length the gunpowder was ignited, and then he ceased 
to move, burning on the other side, and falling down at 
Mr. Latimer's feet over the chain that had hitherto sup- 
ported him. Every eye shed tears at the afflicting sight 
of these sufferers, who were among the most distin- 
guished persons of their time in dignity, piety, and 
public estimation. 



26. ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 

Thomas Cranmer w r as descended from an ancient 
family, and was born at Arselacton, in Northampton. 
He was educated at Cambridge, and afterwards chosen 
fellow of Jesus College. Subsequently he w T as pro- 
moted to be Divinity Lecturer, and one of the exami- 
ners of the candidates to become bachelors or doctors 
of divinity. It was his principle to judge of the candi- 
dates by their knowledge of the Holy Scriptures rather 
than the ancient fathers. Having obtained the favour 
of Henry VIII. by his vindication of that king's divorce 
from Catharine, he was elevated, upon the death of Dr. 
Warham, the archbishop of Canterbury, to that eminent 
station. 

In this office he continued, with unwearied diligence, 
to promote the purity and success of the English Church. 
He was especially anxious to perfect the Reformation. 



92 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

In 1538, the Holy Scriptures were openly used and on 
sale ; and the places of worship overflowed everywhere 
to hear them expounded. 

Upon the king's passing into a law the famous Six 
Articles, which went nearly to establish again the 
essential tenets of the Romish creed, Cranmer shone 
forth with all the lustre of a Christian patriot, in resist- 
ing the doctrines they contained, and in which he was 
supported by the bishops of Sarum, Worcester, Ely, 
and Rochester, the two former of whom resigned their 
bishoprics. The king, though now in opposition to 
Cranmer, still revered the sincerity that marked his 
conduct. The death of Lord Cromwell in the Tower, in 
1540, the good friend of Cranmer, was a severe blow to 
the wavering Protestant cause ; but even now Cranmer, 
when he saw the tide directly adverse to the truth, 
boldly waited on the king in person, and by his manly 
and heartfelt pleading, caused the book of Articles to 
be passed on his side, to the great confusion of his ene- 
mies, who had contemplated his fall as inevitable. 

With the approval of Henry, Cranmer was vigorously 
prosecuting the work of abolishing the mass in the 
kingdom, when that monarch departed this life, in 1546. 
Edward, who succeeded to the throne, continued Cran- 
mer in office ; and upon the coronation of the king, the 
archbishop delivered a charge that will ever honour his 
memory for its purity, freedom, and truth. During the 
reign of Edward, he continued to prosecute the Refor- 
mation with unabated zeal. 

The death of Edward, in 1553, exposed Cranmer to 
all the rage of his enemies. Though the archbishop 
was among those who supported Mary's accession, he 
was attainted at the meeting of Parliament, and in 
November adjudged guilty of high treason at Guildhall, 
and degraded from his dignities. By virtue of this 
instrument, Cranmer was gradually degraded, by putting 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 93 

mere rags on him to represent the dress of an archbishop ; 
then stripping him of his attire, they took off his own 
gown, and put an old worn one upon him instead. 

But subsequently he was induced, by his love of life, 
and by the w T iles of his insidious foes, to sign a paper 
condemning the Reformation. His enemies, though 
they knew that his death was already determined upon 
in Council, promised him restoration to all his former 
dignities, and even the favour of the queen, if he would 
recant. The first paper brought for his signature w T as 
conceived in general terms ; this once signed, five others, 
explanatory of the first, were obtained. His enemies 
then supposed his recantation complete. 

But the queen's revenge was only to be satiated in 
Cranmer's blood; and therefore she wrote an order to 
Dr. Cole to prepare a sermon to be preached, March 21, 
directly before his martyrdom, at St. Mary's, Oxford. 
About nine in the morning of the day of sacrifice, the 
queen's commissioners, attended by the magistrates, 
conducted the amiable unfortunate to St. Mary's church. 
His torn, dirty garb — the same in which they habited 
him upon his degradation — excited the commiseration 
of the people. In the church, he found a low, mean 
stage erected opposite to the pulpit, on which being 
placed, he turned his face, and fervently prayed to God. 
The church w r as crowded with persons of both per- 
suasions, expecting to hear the justification of his late 
apostasy — -the Catholics rejoicing, and the Protestants 
deeply wounded in spirit at the deceit of the human 
heart. Dr. Cole, in his sermon, represented Cranmer 
as having been guilty of the most atrocious crimes; 
encouraged the deluded sufferer not to fear death, not 
to doubt the support of God in his torments, nor that 
masses would be said in all the churches of Oxford for 
the repose of his soul. The doctor then noticed his 
conversion, and which he ascribed to the evident work- 



94 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

ing of almighty Power ; and in order that the people 
might be convinced of its reality, asked the prisoner to 
give them a sign. This Cranmer did, and begged the 
congregation to pray for him, for he had committed 
many and grievous sins ; but, of all, there was one 
which awfully lay upon his mind, of which he would 
speak shortly. 

During the sermon Cranmer wept bitter tears ; lift- 
ing up his hands and eyes to heaven, and letting them 
fall, as if unworthy to live : his grief now found vent in 
words : before his confession he fell upon his knees, and 
in the following words unveiled the deep contrition and 
agitation which harrowed up his soul : — 

" Father of heaven ! Son of God, Redeemer of 
the world! Holy Ghost, three Persons and one 
God! have mercy on me, most wretched caitiff and 
miserable sinner ! I have offended both against heaven 
and earth more than my tongue can express. Whither, 
then, may I go, or whither may I j3.ee ? To heaven I 
may be ashamed to lift up mine eyes, and in earth I 
find no place of refuge or succour. To thee, therefore, 
Lord, do I run ; to thee do I humble myself, saying, 
Lord, my God, my sins be great ; but yet have mercy 
upon me for thy great mercy. The great mystery that 
God became man was not wrought for little or few 
offences. Thou didst not give thy Son, heavenly 
Father, unto death for small sins only, but for all the 
greatest sins of the world, so that the sinner return to 
thee with his whole heart, as I do at this present. 
Wherefore, have mercy on me, God, w T hose property 
is always to have mercy ; have mercy upon me, Lord, 
for thy great mercy! I crave nothing for my own 
merits, but for thy name's sake, that it may be hal- 
lowed thereby, and for thy dear Son Jesus Christ's 
sake. And now, therefore, Father of heaven, hal- 
lowed be thy name," &c. 



SEC. L] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 95 

Then rising, lie said he was desirous before his death 
to give them some pious exhortations, by which God 
might be glorified and themselves edified. He then 
descanted upon the danger of a love of the world, the 
duty of obedience to their magistrates, of love to one an- 
other, and the necessity of the rich administering to the 
wants of the poor. He quoted the three verses of the 
fifth chapter of James, and then proceeded, " Let them 
that be rich ponder well these three sentences : for if 
they ever had occasion to show their charity, they have 
it now at this present, the poor people being so many, 
and victual so dear. 

• " And now, forasmuch as I am come to the last end 
of my life, whereupon hangeth all my life past, and all 
my life to come, — either to live with my master Christ 
forever in joy, or else to be in pain forever with the 
wicked in hell, — and I see before mine eyes presently 
either heaven ready to receive me, or else hell ready to 
swallow me up, — I shall therefore declare unto you my 
very faith how 1 believe, without any colour of dissimu- 
lation; for now is no time to dissemble whatsoever I 
have said or written in times past. 

' ; First. I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker 
of heaven and earth, &c. And I believe every article 
of the Catholic faith, every word and sentence taught by 
our Saviour Jesus Christ, his apostles and prophets, in 
the New and Old Testament. 

" And now I come to the great thing which so much 
troubleth my conscience, more than anything that ever 
I did or said in my whole life, and that is the setting 
abroad of a writing contrary to the truth ; which now 
here I renounce and refuse, as things written with my 
hand contrary to the truth which I thought in my heart, 
and written for fear of death, and to save my life, if it 
might be ; and that is, all such bills and papers which 
I have written or signed with my hand since my degra- 



96 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

dation, wherein I have written many things untrue. 
And forasmuch as my hand hath offended, writing con- 
trary to my heart, therefore my hand shall first be 
punished ; for when I come to the fire, it shall first be 
burned. 

" And as for the pope, I refuse him as Christ's enemy, 
and antichrist, with all his false doctrine. 

" And as for the sacrament, 1 believe as I have taught 
in my book against the bishop of Winchester, which my 
book teacheth so true a doctrine of the sacrament, that 
it shall stand in the last day before the judgment of 
God, where the Papistical doctrines contrary thereto 
shall be ashamed to show their face." 

Upon the conclusion of this unexpected declaration, 
amazement and indignation were conspicuous in every 
part of the church. The Catholics were completely 
foiled, their object being frustrated ; Cranmer, like 
Samson, having completed a greater ruin upon his ene- 
mies in the hour of death than he did in his life. 

Cranmer would have proceeded in the exposure of 
the Popish doctrines ; but the murmurs of the idolaters 
drowned his voice, and the preacher gave an order to 
lead the heretic away. The savage command was 
directly obeyed ; and the lamb about to suffer was torn 
from his stand to the place of slaughter, insulted all the 
way by the revilings and taunts of the pestilent monks 
and friars. With thoughts intent upon a far higher 
object than the empty threats of man, he reached the 
spot dyed with the blood of Ridley and Latimer. There 
he knelt for a short time in earnest devotion, and then 
arose, that he might undress and prepare for the fire. 
Two friars, who had been parties in prevailing upon 
him to abjure, now endeavoured to draw him off again 
from the truth ; but he was steadfast and immovable in 
what he had just professed and before publicly taught. 
A chain was provided to bind him to the stake ; and 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 97 

after it had tightly encircled him, fire was put to the 
fuel, and the flames began soon to ascend. Then was 
the glorious sentiment of the martyr made manifest; 
then it was, that, stretching out his right hand, he held 
it unshrinkingly in the fire till it was burned to a cin- 
der, even before his body was injured, frequently ex- 
claiming, " This hand — this unworthy right hand !" 
Apparently insensible of pain, with a countenance of 
venerable resignation, and eyes directed to Him for 
w T hose cause he suffered, he continued, like St. Stephen, 
to say, " Lord Jesus, receive my spirit !" till the fury 
of the flames terminated his powers of utterance and 
existence. He closed a life of high sublunary elevation, 
of constant uneasiness, and of glorious martyrdom, on 
March 21, 1556. 

27. JOHN ROGERS. 

John Rogers was educated at Cambridge, and was 
afterward many years chaplain to the merchants adven- 
turers at Antwerp, in Brabant. Here he met with the 
celebrated martyr William Tindal, and Miles Coverdale, 
both voluntary exiles from their country for their aver- 
sion to Popish superstition and idolatry. They were 
the instruments of his conversion ; and he united with 
them in that translation of the Bible into English, en- 
titled, " The Translation of Thomas Matthew." From 
the Scriptures he knew that unlawful vows may be law- 
fully broken; hence he married, and removed to Wit- 
tenberg, in Saxony, for the improvement of learning; 
and he there learned the Dutch language, and received 
the charge of a congregation, which he faithfully exe- 
cuted for many years. On King Edward's accession, 
he left Saxony to promote the work of reformation in 
England : and, after some time, Nicholas Ridley, then 
bishop of London, gave him a prebend in St. Paul's 

5 



98 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

Cathedral, and the dean and chapter appointed him 
reader of the divinity lesson there. Here he continued 
until Queen Mary's succession to the throne, when the 
Gospel and true religion were banished, and the anti- 
christ of Rome, with his superstition and idolatry, 
introduced. 

Mr. Rogers preached at St. Paul's Cross after Queen 
Mary arrived at the Tower. He confirmed in his ser- 
mon the true doctrine taught in King Edward's time, 
and exhorted the people to beware of the pestilence of 
Popery, idolatry, and superstition. For this he was 
called to account, but so ably defended himself, that, 
for that time, he was dismissed. The proclamation of 
the queen, however, to prohibit true preaching, gave his 
enemies a new handle against him. Hence he was 
again summoned before the council, and commanded to 
keep his house. He did so, though he might have 
escaped ; and though he perceived the state of the true 
religion to be desperate. "He knew he could not want 
a living in Germany ; and he could not forget a wife 
and ten children, and to seek means to succour them." 
But all these things were insufficient to induce him to 
depart; and, when once called to answer in Christ's 
cause, he stoutly defended it, and hazarded his life for 
that purpose. 

After long imprisonment in his own house, the rest- 
less Bonner, bishop of London, caused him to be com- 
mitted to Newgate, there to be lodged among thieves 
and murderers. 

He underwent two examinations. The first was on 
the 22d of January, 1555 ; the second was on the 28th 
and 29th of the same month. On his first examination 
the chancellor demanded, " Are you content to unite 
and knit yourself to the faith of the catholic Church 
with us, in the state in which it now is in England? 
will ye do that?" 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 99 

To this Rogers replied, " The catholic Church 1 never 
did nor will dissent from." 

Then said the chancellor, " I speak of the state of 
the catholic Church in which we now stand in England, 
having received the pope to be supreme head." 

Then Rogers answered, " I know none other head but 
Christ of his catholic Church; neither will I acknow- 
ledge the bishop of Rome to have any more authority 
than any other bishop hath by the word of God, and by 
the doctrine of the old and pure catholic Church four 
hundred years after Christ." 

To this the chancellor demanded, " Why didst thou 
then acknowledge King Henry the VIII. to be supreme 
head of the Church, if Christ be the only head ?" 

And Rogers replied, " I never granted him to have 
any supremacy in spiritual things — as are the forgiveness 
of sins, giving of the Holy Ghost, authority to be a 
judge above the word of God." 

All efforts to induce Mr. Rogers to recant having 
failed, he was degraded from office, condemned to death, 
and given over into the hands of the sheriff for execu- 
tion. The sentence of condemnation, which has been 
preserved by Mr. Fox, contains only two specific 
charges as being proved against Mr. Rogers. First, 
that he held and taught " that the Catholic Church of 
Rome is the Church of antichrist." Secondly, " That 
in the sacrament of the altar there is not, substantially 
nor really, the natural body and blood of Christ." For 
these sentiments, this man of God was adjudged " to 
be guilty of the detestable, horrible, and wicked offences 
of heretical pravity and execrable doctrine." 

" We, therefore," says Gardiner, the bishop of Win- 
chester, " I say, — albeit, following the example of Christ, 
' which would not the death of a sinner, but rather that 
he should convert and live,' we have gone about often- 
times to correct thee, and by all lawful means that we 



100 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

could, and all wholesome admonitions that we did know, 
to reduce thee again unto the true faith and unity of the 
universal Catholic Church, — notwithstanding have found 
thee obstinate and stiff-necked, willingly continuing in 
thy damnable opinions and heresies, and refusing to 
return again unto the true faith and unity of the holy 
mother- Church; and, as the child of wickedness and 
darkness, so to have hardened thy heart, that thou wilt 
not understand the voice of thy Shepherd, which, with 
a fatherly affection, doth seek after thee, nor wilt be 
allured with his fatherly and godly admonitions : we, 
therefore, Stephen, the bishop aforesaid, not willing that 
thou which art wicked shouldest now become more 
wicked, and infect the Lord's flock with thy heresy, 
(which we are greatly afraid of,) with sorrow of mind 
and bitterness of heart do judge thee, and definitively 
condemn thee, the said John Rogers, otherwise called 
Matthew, thy demerits and faults being aggravated 
through thy damnable obstinacy, as guilty of most de- 
testable heresies, and as an obstinate and impenitent 
sinner, refusing penitently to return to the lap and unity 
of the holy mother- Church; and that thou hast been, 
and art by law, excommunicate, and do pronounce and 
declare thee to be an excommunicate person. Also, we 
pronounce and declare thee, being a heretic, to be cast 
out from the Church, and left unto the judgment of the 
secular power ; and now presently so do leave thee as 
an obstinate heretic, and a person wrapped in the sen- 
tence of the great curse, to be degraded worthily for thy 
demerits, (requiring them, notwithstanding, in the bowels 
of our Lord Jesus Christ, that this execution and punish- 
ment worthily to be done upon thee, may so be mode- 
rated, that the rigour thereof be not too extreme, nor 
yet the gentleness too much mitigated, but that it may 
be to the salvation of thy soul, to the extirpation, ter- 
ror, and conversion, of the heretics, to the unity of the 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 101 

Catholic faith;) by this our sentence definitive, which 
we here lay upon and lay against thee, and do with 
sorrow of heart promulgate in this form aforesaid." 

After this sentence, the bishop declared Mr. Rogers 
to be under the great curse, with the danger of eating 
and drinking anything with persons accursed, or even 
giving them anything, because all such persons would 
be partakers of the same great curse. To which Mr. 
Rogers replied, "Well, my lord, here I stand before 
God and you, and all this honourable audience, and 
take him to witness, that I never wittingly or willingly 
taught any false doctrine ; and, therefore, have I a good 
conscience before God and all good men; I am sure, 
that you and I shall come before a Judge that is right- 
eous, before whom I shall be as good a man as you; 
and I nothing doubt but that 1 shall be found there a 
true member of the true catholic Church of Christ, and 
everlastingly saved. And, as for your false Church, 
ye need not excommunicate me forth of it ; I have not 
been in it these twenty years, the Lord be thanked 
therefor." 

After this, Mr. Rogers requested that his wife, being 
a stranger, and having ten children to care for, might 
be permitted to come and speak with him, that he might 
counsel her what to do ; but even this poor boon was 
denied by the heartless, cruel bishop. After being re- 
manded to prison, he wrote a most eloquent letter, 
vindicating the truth, and exposing the wickedness 
of his persecutors.* The following seems almost pro- 
phetic : — 

9 This letter, as well as tlie account of Ms examinations, taken 
in his own hand- writing, were preserved in a most striking man- 
ner. These were hid away in a secret corner of the prison where 
he lay, and escaped the vigilance of those who came to take away 
his letters and writings. After his death, his wife and one of his 
sons visited the cell in which he had been confined, seeking for 



102 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART L 

" If God look not mercifully upon England, the seeds 
of utter destruction are sown in it already by these 
hypocritical tyrants, and antichristian prelates, popish 
Papists, and double traitors to their natural country. 
And yet they speak of mercy, of blessing, of the 
catholic Church, of unity, of power, and strengthening 
of the realm. This double dissimulation will show 
itself one day when the plague cometh, which undoubt- 
edly will light upon these crown- shorn captains, and 
that shortly, whatsoever the godly and the poor realm 
suffer in the mean while by God's sufferance and will. 

" Spite of Nebuchadnosor's beard, and maugre his 
heart, the captive, thrall, and miserable Jews must come 
home again, and have their city and temple built up 
again by Zorobabel, Esdras, and Nehemias, &c. ; and 
the whole kingdom of Babylon must go to ruin and be 
taken of strangers, the Persians and Medes. So shall 
the dispersed English flock of Christ be brought again 
into their former estate, or to a better, I trust in the 
Lord God, than it was in innocent King Edward's 
days; and our bloody Babylonical bishops, and the 
whole crown- shorn company brought to utter shame, 
rebuke, ruin, decay, and destruction. For God cannot, 
and undoubtedly will not, suffer forever their abominable 
lying, false doctrine, their hypocrisy, blood-thirst, 
whoredom, idleness, their pestilent life, pampered in 
all kinds of pleasure, their thrasonical, boasting pride, 
their malicious, envious, and poisoned stomachs, which 
they bear towards his poor and miserable Christians. 
Peter truly warneth, that, 'if judgment beginnethin the 

his books and writings. When they were about to leave, having 
searched in vain, they soon spied something black in a dark cor- 
ner, under a pair of stairs ; and upon an examination, it was found 
to be a book written in his father's hand, containing the account 
of his examinations and other matters, which have been thus pre- 
served to the Christian Church, 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 103 

house of God, what shall be the end of them that believe 
not the Gospel? If the righteous shall scarcely be 
saved, where shall the ungodly and sinner appear V 
Some shall have their punishment here in this w r orld 
and in the world to come ; and they that do escape in 
this world shall not escape everlasting damnation." 

On the 4th of February, early in the morning, he 
was awakened out of a sound sleep, and called upon to 
prepare himself for the fire. He was brought first be- 
fore Bonner, by whom he w T as degraded, and handed 
over to the secular power. He besought that he might 
speak a few words with his wife before his burning, but 
this was again refused. He was then conveyed to 
Smithfield. On the way he sang a psalm, and the 
people were astonished at his constancy arid firmness, 
and gave thanks to God for the same. His w T ife and 
ten children — one an infant at the breast, met him on his 
way to the stake. It was a piteous spectacle ; but even 
then the offer of a pardon which was made, could not 
prevail upon him to recant. At the stake "he showed 
most constant patience, not using many words — for he 
was not permitted — but only exhorting the people con- 
stantly to remain in that faith and true doctrine which 
he before had taught, and they had learned, and for the 
confirmation whereof he was not only content patiently 
to suffer, and bear all such bitterness and cruelty as had 
been showed him, but also most gladly to resign up his 
life, and to give his flesh to the consuming fire, for the 
testimony of the same." As he was burning, he bathed 
his hands in the flame, and with great constancy received 
death in defence of the Gospel of Christ. 



104 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



28. LAWRENCE SAUNDERS. 

Mr. Saunders was first designed for the mercantile 
business ; but being fond of learning and possessed of a 
great desire to do good, he changed his purpose, and 
was educated at Cambridge for the ministry. At the 
time of Mary's accession he held a benefice in London. 
Without intermeddling in the affairs of state, he con- 
tinued boldly to preach against the Popish heresies. 
On the 15th of October, 1554, as he was about entering 
his church, he was arrested, on the charge of treason, by 
an officer of the bishop of London. Mr. Saunders, per- 
fectly conscious that he had nothing to hope from the 
bloody Bonner, when desired to write what he believed 
upon the doctrine of transubstantiation, immediately 
did so, boldly saying at the same time : " My lord, you 
seek my blood, and you shall have it ; I pray God that 
you may be so baptized with it, that you may ever after 
loathe blood- sucking, and become a better man." The 
bishop was so enraged that he exclaimed, " Carry away 
this frenzied fool to prison." Being thus remanded to 
prison, he was kept in rigorous confinement for one year 
and three months. He was then examined and con- 
demned. After which he was carried to Coventry to be 
burnt. 

When they had arrived at Coventry, a poor shoe- 
maker, who used to serve him with shoes, came to him, 
and said, " my good master, God strengthen and 
comfort you !" " Good shoemaker," Mr. Saunders re- 
plied, " I desire thee to pray for me, for I am the most 
unfit man for this high office, that ever was appointed to 
it ; but my gracious God and dear Father is able to 
make me strong enough." The next day, being the 8th 
of February, 1555, he was led to the place of execution, 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 105 

in the park, without the city ; he went in an old gown 
and a shirt, bare-footed, and oftentimes fell flat on the 
ground, and prayed. When he was come nigh to the 
place, the officer appointed to see the execution done, 
said to Mr. Saunders, that he was one of them who 
marred the Queen's realm, but if he would recant, there 
was pardon for him. " Not I," replied the holy martyr, 
"but such as you have injured the realm. The blessed 
Gospel of Christ is what I hold; that do I believe, that 
have I taught, and that will I never revoke !" Mr. Saun- 
ders then slowly moved towards the fire, sank to the 
earth, and prayed ; he then rose up, embraced the stake, 
and frequently said, "Welcome, thou cross of Christ! 
Welcome, everlasting life !" Fire was then put to the 
fagots ; and he was overwhelmed by the dreadful flames, 
and sweetly slept in the Lord Jesus. 



29. JOHN HOOPER, BISHOP OF WORCESTER AND 
GLOUCESTER. 

This learned divine, eloquent preacher, and heroic 
martyr, was educated at Oxford, and was early moved 
by a fervent love of the Holy Scriptures, and an insa- 
tiable desire to know .and understand them. He was 
equally ardent in his vindication of the true Gospel. 
Being molested at home, he sought refuge abroad, and 
prosecuted his studies in the higher parts of Germany. 
Upon the accession of Edward VI., when the way to the 
Reformation was more perfectly opened, Hooper re- 
turned from his exile, and boldly preached the doctrines 
of the Gospel in London. 

In his sermons, according to his accustomed manner, 
he corrected sin, and sharply inveighed against the ini- 
quity of the world, and the corrupt abuses of the Church. 
The people in great flocks and companies daily came to 

5* 



106 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

hear his voice, as the most melodious sound and tune of 
Orpheus' s harp, insomuch that oftentimes, when he was 
preaching, the church would be so full that none could 
enter farther than the doors thereof. In his doctrine, 
he was earnest, in tongue eloquent, in the Scriptures 
perfect, in pains indefatigable, in his life exemplary. 

Having preached before the king's majesty, he was 
soon after made bishop of Gloucester. In that office he 
continued two years, and after that he was made bishop 
of Worcester. 

He was too notable a mark to escape the notice of the 
blood-thirsty Bonner. The first charge laid against 
him was indebtedness to the queen. He suffered eigh- 
teen months' confinement in the Fleet ; and afterwards 
was degraded and condemned to death. Gloucester 
being fixed upon as the place of his martyrdom, he re- 
joiced very much, giving thanks to God that he might 
be permitted among the people over whom he was pas- 
tor, to confirm with his death the truth which he had 
preached unto them. About eight o'clock, on February 
9th, 1555, he was led forth to execution in the presence 
of many thousand people who had assembled. 

All the way being straitly charged not to speak, and 
beholding the people, who mourned bitterly for him, he 
would sometimes lift up his eyes towards heaven, and 
look very cheerfully upon such as he knew : and he was 
never known, during the time of his being among them, 
to look with so cheerful and ruddy a countenance as he 
did at that time. When he came to the place appointed 
where he should die, he smilingly beheld the stake and 
preparation made for him, which was near unto the great 
elm-tree over against the college of priests, where he 
used to preach. 

Now, after he had entered into prayer, a box was 
brought and laid before him upon a stool, with his par- 
don from the Queen, if he would turn. At the sight 



SEC. L] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 107 

whereof he cried, " If you love my soul, away with it" 
The box being taken away, Lord Chandois said, " See- 
ing there is no remedy, dispatch him quickly." Prayer 
being done, bishop Hooper prepared himself for the 
stake, and taking off his host's gown, he delivered it to 
the sheriffs, requiring them to see it restored unto the 
owner, and put off the rest of his apparel, unto a doublet 
and hose, wherein he wished to have been burned, but 
the sheriffs overruled it, and his doublet, hose, and waist- 
coat, were taken off. 

Desiring the people to say the Lord's prayer with him, 
and to pray for him, (who performed it with tears, dur- 
ing the time of his pains,) he went up to the stake : 
when he was at it. he looked upon the multitude, — of 
whom he might well be seen, for he was both tall, and 
stood also upon a high stool, — and beheld round about 
him, that at every corner there was nothing to be seen 
but weeping and sorrowing people. Then, lifting up his 
eyes and hands to heaven, he prayed in silence. The 
reeds were next cast up, and he received two bundles, 
placing one under each arm, and showed with his hand 
how the others should be bestowed, and pointed to the 
place where any were wanting. 

Command was now given that the fire should be 
kindled. But because there were not more green fagots 
than two horses could carry, it kindled not speedily, 
and was a pretty while also before it took the reeds upon 
the fagots. At length it burned about him, but the wind 
having full strength in that place, and being a lowering 
cold morning, it blew the flame from him, so that he was 
in a manner little more than touched by the fire. 

Within a space after, a few dry fagots were brought, 
and a new fire kindled with fagots, for there w T ere no 
more reeds, and those burned at the nether parts, but 
had small power above, because of the wind, saving that 
it burnt his hair, and scorched his skin a little. In the 



108 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

time of which fire, even as at the first flame, he prayed, 
saying mildly, and not very loud, but as one without 
pain, " Jesus, Son of David, have mercy upon me, 
and receive my soul!" After the second fire was spent, 
he wiped both his eyes with his hands, and beholding 
the people, he said with an indifferent loud voice, " For 
God's love, good people, let me have more fire !" and all 
this while his nether parts did burn ; but the fagots were 
so few, that the flames only singed his upper parts. 

The third fire was kindled within a while after, which 
was more extreme than the other two : and then the 
bladders of gunpowder brake, which did him little good, 
they were so placed, and the wind had such power. In 
this fire he prayed with a loud voice, " Lord Jesus, have 
mercy upon me ! Lord Jesus, receive my spirit !" And 
these were the last words he was heard to utter. But 
when he was black in the mouth, and his tongue swollen 
that he could not speak, yet his lips went till they were 
shrunk to the gums : and he knocked his breast with 
his hands until one of his arms fell off, and then knocked 
still with the other, while the fat, water, and blood, 
dropped out at his fingers' ends, until, by renewing of 
the fire, his strength was gone, and his hand clave fast 
in knocking to the iron upon his breast. Then imme- 
diately bowing forwards, he yielded up his spirit. 



30. DR. ROWLAND TAYLOR. 

Dr. Rowland Taylor, vicar of Hadley in Suffolk, was 
a man of eminent learning, and had been admitted to the 
degree of doctor of the civil and canon law. 

His attachment to the pure and uncorrupted princi- 
ples of Christianity recommended him to the favour 
and friendship of Dr. Cranmer, archbishop of Canter- 
bury, with whom he lived a considerable time, till 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 109 

through his interest he obtained the living of Had- 
ley. 

Dr. Taylor promoted the interest of the great Re- 
deemer, and the souls of mankind, both by his preach- 
ing and example, during the time of king Edward VI. ; 
but on his demise, and the succession of Queen Mary to 
the throne, he escaped not the cloud that burst on so 
many besides. 

He was summoned before the bishop of Winchester, 
and finally sentenced to be burnt. When the sentence 
was read, he joyfully gave thanks to God. The night 
after he was degraded, by the favour of his keepers his 
wife came with his old and faithful servant John Hull 
and his son Thomas, and supped with him. After tea, 
walking up and down, he gave God thanks for his grace, 
that had so called him and given him strength to abide 
by his holy word ; and turning to his son Thomas, he 
exhorted him to piety and filial obedience in the most 
earnest maimer. Then, turning to his wife, ' ; My dear 
wife," said he, " continue steadfast in the fear and love 
of God ; keep yourself undefiled from their popish idola- 
tries and superstitions." When he had thus said, they 
with weeping eyes prayed together, and kissed one an- 
other ; and he gave to his wife a book for the Church 
service, set out by king Edward, which he in the time 
of his imprisonment daily used. And unto his son 
Thomas he gave a Latin book, containing the notable 
sayings of the old martyrs, gathered out of the Ecclesi- 
astical History ; and in the end of that book he wrote 
his pious testament and last farewell. 

Dr. Taylor, about two o'clock in the morning, was 
conveyed to the Woolpack, Aldgate, and had an affect- 
ing interview with his wife and daughter, and a female 
orphan he had brought up, who had waited all night in 
St. Botolph's porch, to see him pass before being de- 
livered to the sheriff of Essex. On coming; out of the 



110 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

gates, John Hull, his good servant, stood at the rails 
with Thomas, (Dr. Taylor's son.) Then he lifted up 
his eyes to heaven, and prayed for his son and blessed 
him. 

When they were come to Hadley-bridge, at the 
bridge-foot waited a poor man with five small children; 
who held up their hands, and he cried, " dear father, 
and good shepherd, Dr. Taylor, God help and succour 
thee as thou hast many a time succoured me and my 
poor children !" The streets of Hadley were beset on 
both sides the way with the men and women of the 
town and country, who waited to see and bless him. 

When Dr. Taylor had arrived at Aldham Common, 
the place where he should suffer, seeing a great multi- 
tude of people, he asked, " What place is this, and what 
meaneth it that so much people are gathered hither?" It 
was answered, " It is Aldham Common, the place where 
you must suffer, and the people are come to look upon 
you." Then he said, " Thanked be God, I am even at 
home;" and he alighted from his horse, and with both 
his hands rent the hood from his head. 

His head had been notched and clipped like as a man 
would clip a fool's; which cost the good bishop Bonner 
had bestowed upon him. But when the people saw his 
reverend and ancient face, with a long white beard, they 
burst out with weeping tears, and cried, saying, " God 
save thee, good Dr. Taylor ! Jesus Christ strengthen 
thee, and help thee! the Holy Ghost comfort thee!" 

Dr. Taylor, perceiving that he should not be suffered 
to speak, sat down. On seeing one named Soyce, he 
called him, and said, " Soyce, I pray thee come and pull 
off my boots, and take them for thy labour ; thou hast 
long looked for them — now take them." Then he rode 
up, and put off his clothes unto his shirt, and gave them 
away. Which done, he said with a loud voice, " Good 
people, I have taught you nothing but God's holy word, 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. Ill 

and those lessons that I have taken out of God's blessed 
book — the Holy Bible ; and I am come hither this day to 
seal it with my blood." With that word Holmes, yeo- 
man of the guard, who used Dr. Taylor very cruelly all 
the way, gave him a heavy stroke upon the head, and 
said, " Is that the keeping of thy promise of silence, 
thou heretic ?" Then the doctor knelt down and prayed, 
and a poor woman that was among the people stepped 
in and prayed with him. When he had prayed, he went 
to the stake and kissed it, and set himself into a pitch- 
barrel, which they had put for him to stand in, and stood 
with his back upright against the stake, with his hands 
folded together, and his eyes towards heaven, and con- 
tinually prayed. 

Then they bound him with the chains, and having set 
up the fagots, one Warwick cruelly cast a fagot at him, 
which struck him on his head, and cut his face, so that 
the blood ran down. Then said Dr. Taylor, " friend, 
I have harm enough; what needed that?" 

Sir John Shelton standing by, as Dr. Taylor was 
speaking, and saying the Psalm Miserere in English, 
struck him on the lips : " You knave," said he, " speak 
Latin; I will make thee." At last they kindled the 
fire ; and Dr. Taylor, holding up both his hands, called 
upon God, and said, " Merciful Father of heaven, for 
Jesus Christ my Saviour's sake, receive my soul into 
thy hands f' So he stood still without either crying or 
moving, with his hands folded together, till Soyce with 
a halberd struck him on the head till his brains fell out, 
and the corpse fell down into the fire. 



112 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



31. MR. THOMAS TOMKINS. 

Thomas Tomkins was by trade a weaver in Shoreditch, 
till he was summoned before the inhuman Bonner, and 
confined with many others, who renounced the errors of 
Popery, in a prison in that tyrant's house at Fulham. 

Under his confinement, he was treated by the bishop 
not only unbecoming a prelate, but even a man ; for the 
savage, because Tomkins would not assent to the doc- 
trine of transubstantiation, bruised him in the face, and 
plucked off the greatest part of the hair of his beard. 

On another occasion, this scandal to humanity, in the 
presence of many who came to visit at Fulham, took 
this poor honest man by the fingers, and held his hand 
directly over the flame of a wax candle, having three or 
four wicks, supposing that, being terrified by the smart 
and pain of the fire, he would leave off the defence of the 
doctrine which he had received. 

Tomkins thinking no otherwise but there presently to 
die, began to commend himself unto the Lord, saying, 
" Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit," &c. 
Tomkins afterwards reported to one James Hinse, that 
all the time that his hand was burning his spirit was so 
rapt, that he felt no pain. In which burning he never 
shrank till the veins shrank, and the sinews burst, and 
the water spurted into Mr. Harpsfield's face; insomuch 
that Mr. Harpsfield, moved with pity, desired the bishop 
to stay, saying, that he had tried him enough. 

After undergoing two examinations, and refusing to 
swerve from his duty and belief, he was burned in Smith- 
field, March 16th, 1555, triumphant in the midst of the 
flames, and adding to the noble company of martyrs, 
who had preceded him through the path of the fiery trial 
to the realms of immortal glory. 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. ' 113 



32. MR. THOMAS HAUKES. 

Mr. Haukes was a man of great parts and education ; 
he was a gentleman in manners, and a sincere Christian. 
Having a child born unto him, he delayed its christening 
that it might not be done by a Popish priest. His in- 
tention having been expressed, he was cited before Bon- 
ner, and underwent a strict examination respecting his 
faith in, and opinion of, the sacramental elements. In a 
second conversation that passed between Bonner and 
Mr. Haukes, the bishop asked him what he thought of 
the Romish confession ; to which Mr. Haukes replied, 
" I say it is abominable and detestable, yea, a blasphemy 
against God and his Son Jesus Christ, to call upon any, 
to trust to any, or to pray to any, save only Jesus 
Christ/' Upon his further examination the next day, 
Bonner's declarations clearly demonstrated the malice 
of his religion. " Thou art a heretic," said he, " and 
thou shalt be burned, if thou continue in this opinion. 
You think we are afraid to put one of you to death; 
yes, yes, there is a brotherhood of you, but I will break 
it, I warrant you." 

A little before death, several of Mr. H.'s friends, ter- 
rified by the sharpness of the punishment he was going 
to suffer, privately desired that in the midst of the flames 
he would show them some token, whether the pains of 
burning were so great that a man might not collectedly 
endure it. This he promised to do ; and it was agreed, 
that if the rage of the pain might be suffered, then he 
should lift up his hands above his head towards heaven, 
before he gave up the ghost. 

Not long after, Mr. Haukes was led away to the place 
appointed for slaughter by lord Rich ; and being come to 
the stake, mildly and patiently prepared himself for the 



114 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

fire, having a strong chain cast about his middle, with a 
multitude of people on every side compassing him about. 
Unto whom after he had spoken many things, and 
poured out his soul unto God, the fire was kindled. 

When he had continued long in it, and his speech was 
taken away by violence of the flame, his skin drawn to- 
gether, and his fingers consumed with the fire, so that it 
was thought that he was gone, suddenly, and contrary to 
all expectation, this good man, being mindful of his 
promise, reached up his hands burning in flames over 
his head to the living God, and with great rejoicings, as 
it seemed, struck or clapped them three times together. 
A great shout followed this wonderful circumstance, and 
then this blessed martyr of Christ, sinking down in the 
fire, gave up his spirit, June 10, 1555. 



33. MR. CHRISTOPHER WAID. 

Christopher Waid, linendraper, of Dartford, suffered 
death, condemned by Maurice, bishop of Rochester, 
about the last day of June, 1555. Mr. Waid was ap- 
pointed to be burnt at a place a quarter of a mile out of 
Dartford town, called the Brimth, in a gravel pit, the 
common place for the execution of felons. 

Being made ready, and his clothes stripped off at an 
inn, a long white shirt was brought him from his wife, 
which being put on, and he pinioned, he was led on foot 
to the aforesaid place. When he was come to the stake, 
he took it in his arms and kissed it, setting his back to 
it, and standing in a pitch barrel which was taken from 
the beacon hard by ; a smith then brought a hoop of 
iron, and with two staples made it fast to the stake under 
his arms. 

As soon as he was thus settled, with his eyes and 
hands lifted up to heaven, he spake with a cheerful and 



SEC. L] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 115 

loud voice the last verse of the 88th psalm: "Show 
some good token upon me, Lord, that they which hate 
me may see it, and be ashamed ; because thou, Lord, 
hast helped me, and comforted me." 

Then the reeds being set about him, he pulled them, 
and embraced them in his arms, making a hole against 
his face, that his voice might be heard ; which his tor- 
mentors perceiving, they cast fagots at the aperture ; 
but notwithstanding he still, as he could, put them off, 
his face being hurt with the end of a fagot cast thereat. 
The fire being put to him, he cried unto God often, 
" Lord Jesus, receive my soul ;" showing no token nor 
sign of impatience in the fire, till at length, after the fire 
was thoroughly kindled, he was heard by no man to 
speak, still holding up his hands together over his head 
towards heaven, even when he was dead and altogether 
roasted, as though they had been stayed up with a sup- 
port under them. 

34. MR. DIRICK CARVER. 

Dirick Carter was a man whom the Lord had blessed 
as well with temporal riches as with his spiritual trea- 
sures. At his coming into the town of Lewes to be 
burnt, the people called to him, beseeching God to 
strengthen him in the faith of Jesus Christ ; and, as he 
came to the stake, he knelt down, and prayed earnestly. 
After he had prayed awhile, he said, " Lord my 
God, thou hast written, He that will not forsake wife, 
children, house, and everything that he hath, and take up 
his cross and follow thee, is not worthy of thee; but 
thou, Lord, knowest that I have forsaken all to come 
unto thee ; Lord, have mercy upon me, for unto thee I 
commend my spirit, and my soul doth rejoice in thee!" 
These were the last words of this faithful servant of 
Christ before enduring the fire. 



116 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART L 



35. MR. ROBERT GLOVER. 

John Glover was a gentleman of property in the town 
of Manchester, and with his brothers, Robert and Wil- 
liam, had received and embraced the happy light of the 
Reformation. John was of a peculiarly tender con- 
science ; and during five years, before the accession of 
Queen Mary, had the strongest terrors of mind upon 
him, that he was in a reprobate state : in this fearful 
view, however, it pleased the Lord to comfort him, and 
when the bishop of Coventry heard of his zeal and piety, 
he sent an order to the mayor for his immediate appre- 
hension. The worthy magistrate, however, gave him 
private notice of his danger, and thereby John and Wil- 
liam had time to withdraw before the arrival of the offi- 
cers, one of whom, proceeding up stairs, found Mr. Ro- 
bert Glover ill in bed. Regardless of his not being the 
person indicted, he took him before the officers, who 
would willingly have dismissed him, but the sheriff 
threatened to denounce them as favourers of heretics. 
Thus he was brought before the tiger of Coventry, and 
ordered to be conveyed to Litchfield, ill as he was, where 
he arrived about four o'clock at the Swan, and after- 
ward was put into a dismal room in the prison, without 
stool or table, and with straw only for his bed that 
night. 

He underwent several examinations before the bishop 
in public consistory, and was condemned. Before exe- 
cution he felt much doubt of his strength to bear the bit- 
ter cross preparing for him ; but Mr. Augustus Bernher, 
a faithful friend and minister, consoled him in the try- 
ing conflict on the day of his death. As he proceeded 
towards the stake, he felt the Saviour's hand so strongly 
supporting him, that he ejaculated, clapping his hands 



m 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 117 

to his reverend friend, " Austin, he comes, he comes !" 
In this glorious frame of mind he was joined to his Re- 
deemer. 



36. MR. JOHN PHILPOT. 

This martyr was the son of a knight, born in Hamp- 
shire, and brought up at new College, Oxford, where he 
several years studied the civil law, and became eminent 
in the Hebrew tongue. He was a scholar and a gentle- 
man, zealous in religion, fearless in disposition, and a 
detester of flattery. After visiting Italy, he returned to 
England, affairs in king Edward's days wearing a more 
promising aspect. During this reign he continued to 
be archdeacon of Winchester under Dr. Poinet, who 
succeeded Gardiner. Upon the accession of Mary, a 
convocation was summoned, in which Mr. Philpot de- 
fended the Reformation against his ordinary Gardiner, 
(again made bishop of Winchester,) and soon was con- 
ducted to Bonner and other commissioners for examina- 
tion, Oct. 2, 1555, after being eighteen months impri- 
soned. Upon his demanding to see the commission, 
Dr. Story cruelly observed, "I will spend both my gown 
and my coat but I will burn thee ! Let him be in Lol- 
lard's tower, (a wretched prison,) for I will sweep the 
King's Bench and all the other prisons of these here- 
tics !" 

Upon Mr. Philpot' s second examination, it was inti- 
mated to him, that Dr. Story had said that the lord 
chancellor had commanded that he should be made 
away with. It is easy to foretell the result of this in- 
quiry : he was committed to Bonner's coal-house, where 
he joined company with a zealous minister of Essex, 
who had been induced to sign a bill of recantation ; but 
afterward, stung by his conscience, he asked the bishop 
to let him see the instrument again, when he tore it to 



118 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

pieces ; which, induced Bonner in a fury to strike him 
repeatedly, and tear away part of his beard. Mr. Phil- 
pot had a private interview with Bonner the same night, 
and was then remanded to his bed of straw, like the 
other prisoners, in the coal-house. 

After seven examinations, Bonner ordered him to be 
set in the stocks, and on the following Sunday separated 
him from his fellow-prisoners as a sower of heresy, and 
ordered him up to a room near the battlements of St. 
Paul's, eight foot by thirteen, on the other side of Lol- 
lard's tower, and which could be overlooked by any one 
in the bishop's outer gallery. Here Mr. Philpot was 
searched; but happily he was successful in secreting 
some letters containing his examinations. In the elev- 
enth investigation before various bishops, and Mr. Mor- 
gan, of Oxford, the latter was so driven into a corner by 
the close pressure of Mr. Philpot' s arguments, that he 
said to him, "Instead of the spirit of the Gospel, which 
you boast to possess, I think it is the spirit of the but- 
tery, which your fellows have had, who were drunk be- 
fore their death, and went, I believe, drunken to it." 

To this unfounded and brutish remark, Mr. Philpot 
indignantly replied, " It appeareth by your communica- 
tion, that you are better acquainted with that spirit than 
the Spirit of God; wherefore I tell thee, thou painted 
wall and hypocrite, in the name of the living God, whose 
truth I have told thee, that God shall rain fire and brim- 
stone upon such blasphemers as thou art!" He was 
then remanded by Bonner, with an order not to allow 
him his Bible nor candlelight. 

December 4th, Mr. Philpot had his next hearing, and 
this was followed by two more, making in all fourteen 
conferences, previous to the final examination in which 
he was condemned; such were the perseverance and 
anxiety of the Catholics, aided by the argumentative 
abilities of the most distinguished of the papal bishops, 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 119 

to bring him into the pale of their Church. Those 
examinations, which were very long and learned, were 
all written down by Mr. Philpot, and a stronger proof 
of the imbecility of the Catholic doctors cannot to an 
unbiassed mind be exhibited. 

December 16th, in the consistory of St. Paul's, bishop 
Bonner proceeded to pass the awful sentence upon him, 
after he and the other bishops had urged him by every 
inducement to recant. He was afterward conducted to 
JMewgate, where the avaricious Catholic keeper loaded 
him with heavy irons, which, by the humanity of Mr. 
Macham, were ordered to be taken off. 

December 17th, Mr. Philpot received intimation that 
he was to die next day ; and the next morning, about 
eight o'clock, he joyfully met the sheriffs, who were to 
attend him to the place of execution. Upon entering 
Smithfield, the ground was so muddy, that two officers 
offered to carry him to the stake ; but he replied, " Would 
you make me a pope ? I am content to finish my jour- 
ney on foot." Arrived at the stake, he said, " Shall I 
disdain to suffer at the stake, when my Redeemer did 
not refuse to suffer the most vile death upon the cross 
for me?" He then meekly recited the 106th, 107th, 
and 108th psalms, and when he had finished his prayers, 
was bound to the post, and fire applied to the pile. On 
December 18th, 1555, perished this illustrious martyr, 
reverenced by man, and glorified in heaven ! His let- 
ters, arising out of the cause for which he suffered, are 
elegant, numerous, and elaborate. 



120 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



37. MRS. CICELY ORMES. 

This young martyr, aged twenty-two, was the wife of 
Mr. Edmund Ormes, worsted weaver of St. Lawrence, 
Norwich. September 23, 1557, she was brought to the 
stake, at eight o'clock in the morning. After declaring 
her faith to the people, she laid her hand on the stake, 
and said, " Welcome, thou cross of Christ." Her hand 
was sooted in doing this, (for it was the same stake at 
which Miller and Cooper were burnt,) and she at first 
wiped it; but directly after again welcomed and em- 
braced it as the " sweet cross of Christ." After the 
tormentors had kindled the fire, she said, " My soul doth 
magnify the Lord, and my spirit doth rejoice in God my 
Saviour." Then crossing her hands upon her breast, 
and looking upwards with the utmost serenity, she stood 
the fiery furnace. Her hands continued gradually to 
rise, till the sinews were dried, and then they fell. She 
uttered no sigh of pain, but yielded her life, a willing 
sacrifice for the cause of truth. 



38. MR. THOMAS HUDSON. 

Thomas Hudson, of Aylesbury, Norfolk, was a glover, 
an industrious man, aged thirty. Disliking the super- 
stitious ceremonies introduced by queen Mary, he ab- 
sented himself from his church and home, and wandered 
about from place to place, till at length, anxious to see 
his children, he returned to the bosom of his afflicted 
family. The better to secure his person from the offi- 
cers, he and his wife constructed a hollow place among 
a quantity of fagots, to which, for greater security, he 
retired. Here he remained six months, waited upon by 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 121 

his wife with the utmost affection, while he employed 
his time in reading and prayer. Mr. Berry, the vicar 
of the town, anxious for the sacrifice of the pious man, 
now came to his wife, and threatened her with the fate 
designed for her husband, if she did not disclose the 
place of his retreat. 

His next-door neighbour, Crouch, laid an information 
against him, and April 22, 1558, he was taken. When 
the constables entered, he said, " Welcome, friends, wel- 
come ! Now mine hour is come ; for you are they who 
shall lead me to life in Christ. I thank God for it, and 
the Lord strengthen me for his mercy's sake." 

The spot of execution was called Lollard's pit, with- 
out Bishopsgate, at Norwich. After joining together in 
humble petition to the throne of grace, they arose, went 
to the stake, and were encircled with their chains. To 
the great surprise of the spectators, Hudson slipped 
from under his chain, and came forward. A great opin- 
ion prevailed that he was about to recant ; others thought 
that he w T anted further time. In the meantime, his com- 
panions at the stake urged every promise and exhorta- 
tion to support him. The hopes of the enemies of the 
cross, however, were disappointed: the good man, far 
from fearing the smallest personal terror at the approach- 
ing pangs of death, was only alarmed, that his Saviour's 
face seemed to be hidden from him. Falling upon his 
knees, his spirit wrestled with God, and God verified 
the words of his Son, " Ask, and it shall be given." 
The martyr rose in an ecstasy of joy, and exclaimed, 
" Now, I thank God, I am strong, and care not what 
man can do to me 1" With an unruffled countenance 
lie replaced himself under the chain, joined his fellow- 
sufferers, and with them suffered death, to the comfort 
of the godly, and the confusion of antichrist. 

6 



122 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



39. LORD VISCOUNT WINCESLAUS. 

This venerable nobleman, who had attained the age of 
seventy years, was equally respectable for learning, 
piety, and hospitality. His temper was so remarkably 
patient, that when his house was broken open, his pro- 
perty seized, and his estates confiscated, he only said, 
with great composure, " The Lord gave, and the Lord 
hath taken away." Being asked why he could engage 
in so dangerous a cause, he replied, " I acted strictly ac- 
cording to the dictates of my conscience. I am now full 
of years, and wish to lay down life, that I may not be a 
witness of the further evils which are to attend my coun- 
try. You have long thirsted for my blood ; take it, for 
God will be my avenger." Then approaching the block, 
he stroked his long gray beard, and said, " Venerable 
hairs, the greater honour now attends ye — a crown of 
martyrdom is your portion." Then laying down his 
head, it was severed from his body at one stroke, and 
placed upon a pole in a conspicuous part of the city. 



40. LORD HARANT. 

Lord Harant was a man of good sense, great piety, 
and much experience gained by travel — as he had visited 
the principal places in Europe, Asia and Africa. Hence 
he was free from national prejudices, and had collected 
much knowledge. 

When he came upon the scaffold, he said, "I have 
travelled through many countries, and traversed various 
barbarous nations, yet never found so much cruelty as 
at home. I have escaped innumerable perils both by 
sea and land, and surmounted inconceivable difficulties, 



SEC. L] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 123 

to suffer innocently in my native place. My blood is 
likewise sought by those for whom I, and my forefathers, 
have hazarded our lives and estates; but, Almighty 
God, forgive them, for they know not what they do." 
He then went to' the block, kneeled down, and exclaimed 
with great energy, " Into thy hands, Lord, I commend 
my spirit ; in thee have I always trusted ; receive me, 
therefore, my blessed Redeemer." The fatal stroke 
was then given, and a period put to the temporary pains 
of this life. 



41. SIR GASPER KAPLITZ. 

This gentleman was eighty- six years of age. When 
he came to the place of execution, he addressed the 
principal officer thus : — " Behold a miserable ancient 
man, who hath often entreated God to take him out 
of this wicked world, but could not till now obtain his 
desire; for God reserved me till these yea,rs to be a 
spectacle to the world, and a sacrifice to himself: there- 
fore God's will be done." One of the officers told him, 
that in consideration of his great age, if he would only 
ask pardon he would immediately receive it. "Ask 
pardon !" exclaimed he, " I will ask pardon of God, 
whom I have frequently offended ; but not of the em- 
peror, to whom I never gave any offence : should I sue 
for pardon, it might be justly suspected I had com- 
mitted some crime for which I deserved this condemna- 
tion. No, no ; as I die innocent, and with a clear 
conscience, I would not be separated from this noble 
company of martyrs :" so saying, he cheerfully resigned 
his neck to the block. 



124 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



42. MR. CHRISTOPHER CHOBER. 

This gentleman, as soon as he stepped upon the scaf- 
fold, said, " I come in the name of God, to die for his 
glory; I have fought the good fight, and finished my 
course; so, executioner, do your office." The execu- 
tioner obeyed, and he instantly received the crown of 
martyrdom. 

43. REV. GEORGE WISH ART. 

Mr. George Wishart was born in Scotland, and after 
receiving a grammatical education at a private school, 
he left that place, and finished his studies at the Uni- 
versity of Cambridge. 

In order to improve himself as much as possible in 
the knowledge of literature, he travelled into various 
parts abroad, where he distinguished himself for his 
great learning and abilities, both in philosophy and 
divinity. 

After being some time abroad, he returned to Eng- 
land, and took up his residence at Cambridge, where he 
was admitted a member of Bennet College. Having 
taken up his degrees, he entered into holy orders, and 
expounded the Gospel in so clear and intelligible a 
manner as highly to delight his numerous auditors. 

Being desirous of propagating the true Gospel in his 
own country, he left Cambridge in 1544; and on his 
arrival in Scotland he first preached at Montrose, and 
afterward at Dundee. In this last place he made a 
public exposition of the Epistle to the Romans, which 
he went through with such grace and freedom as greatly 
alarmed the Papists. 

In consequence of this, (at the instigation of Cardinal 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 125 

Beaton, the archbishop of St. Andrews,) one Robert 
Miln, a principal man at Dundee, went to the church 
where Wishart preached, and in the middle of his dis- 
course publicly told him not to trouble the town any- 
more, for he was determined not to suffer it. 

This sudden rebuff greatly surprised Wishart, who, 
after a short pause, looking sorrowfully on the speaker 
and the audience, said, " God is my witness, that I never 
minded your trouble, but your comfort ; yea, your trouble 
is more grievous to me than it is to yourselves ; but I 
am assured, to refuse God's w T ord, and to chase from 
you his messenger, shall not preserve you from trouble, 
but shall bring you into it; for God shall send you 
ministers that shall neither fear burning nor banish- 
ment. I have offered you the word of salvation. With 
the hazard of my life I have remained among you : now 
you yourselves refuse me ; and I must leave my inno- 
cence to be declared by my God. If it be long pros- 
perous with you, I am not led by the Spirit of truth : 
but if unlooked-for trouble come upon you, acknowledge 
the cause, and turn to God, who is gracious and mer- 
ciful. But if you turn not at the first warning, he will 
visit you with fire and sword." At the close of this 
speech he left the pulpit, and retired. 

After this he went into the west of Scotland, where 
he preached God's word, which w T as gladly received by 
many. 

A short time after this, Mr. Wishart received intelli- 
gence that the plague was broken out in Dundee. It 
began four days after he was prohibited from preaching 
there, and raged so extremely that it was almost beyond 
credit how many died in the space of twenty- four hours. 
This being related to him, he, notwithstanding the im- 
portunity of his friends to detain him, determined to go 
there, saying, " They are now in troubles, and need 
comfort. Perhaps this hand of God will make them 



126 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

now to magnify and reverence the word of God, which 
before they lightly esteemed." 

Here he was with joy received by the godly. He 
chose the east-gate for the place of his preaching; so 
that the healthy were within, and the sick without the 
gate. He took his text from these words: "He sent 
his word, and healed them," &c. In this sermon he 
chiefly dwelt upon the advantage and comfort of God's 
word, the judgments that ensue upon the contempt or 
rejection of it, the freedom of God's grace to all his, 
people, and the happiness of those of his elect whom 
he takes to himself out of this miserable world. The 
hearts of his hearers were so raised by the Divine force 
of this discourse as not to regard death, but to judge 
them the more happy who should then be called, not 
knowing whether they might have such a comforter 
again with them. 

After this the plague abated; though, in the midst 
of it, Wishart constantly visited those that lay in the 
greatest extremity, and comforted them by his ex- 
hortations. 

When he took his leave of the people of Dundee, he 
said, " That God had almost put an end to that plague, 
and that he was now called to another place." 

He went from thence to Montrose, where he some- 
times preached, but spent most of his time in private 
meditation and prayer. 

It is said, that before he left Dundee, and while he 
was engaged in the labours of love to the bodies, as 
well as to the souls, of those poor afflicted people, Car- 
dinal Beaton engaged a desperate Popish priest, called 
John Weighton. to kill him; the attempt to execute 
which was as follows: — One day, after Wishart had 
finished his sermon, and the people departed, the priest 
stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a naked 
dagger in his hand under his gown. But Mr. Wishart 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 127 

having a sharp, piercing eye, and seeing the priest as 
he came from the pulpit, said to him, " My friend, what 
would you have ?" and immediately clapping his hand 
upon the dagger, took it from him. The priest, being 
terrified, fell on his knees, confessed his intention, and 
craved pardon. A noise being hereupon raised, and it 
coming to the ears of those who were sick, they cried, 
" Deliver the traitor to us ; we will take him by force :" 
and they burst in at the gate. But Wishart, taking 
the priest in his arms, said, "Whatsoever hurts him 
shall hurt me; for he hath done me no mischief, but 
much good, by teaching more heedfulness for the time 
to come." By this conduct he appeased the people, 
and saved the life of the wicked priest. 

Soon after his return to Montrose, the cardinal again 
conspired his death, causing a letter to be sent to him 
as if it had been from his familiar friend, the laird of 
Kennier; in which he was desired, with all possible 
speed, to come to him, because he was taken with a 
sudden sickness. In the mean time the cardinal had 
provided sixty men armed, to lie in wait w T ithin a mile 
and a half of Montrose, in order to murder him as he 
passed that Avay. 

The letter coming to Wishart' s hand by a boy, — who 
also brought him a horse for the journey, — Wishart, 
accompanied by some honest men, his friends, set for- 
ward; but something particular striking his mind by 
the way, he returned back, — which they wondering at, 
asked him the cause ; to whom he said, " I will not go ; 
I am forbidden of God ; I am assured there is treason. 
Let some of you go to yonder place, and tell me what 
you find." Which doing, they made the discovery; 
and hastily returning, they told Mr. Wishart; where- 
upon he said, "I know I shall end my life by that 
blood-thirsty man's hands, but it will not be in this 
manner." 



128 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

A short time after this he left Montrose, and pro- 
ceeded to Edinburgh, in order to propagate the Gospel 
in that city. By the way he lodged with a faithful 
brother, called James Watson, of Inner- Goury. In 
the middle of the night he got up, and went into 
the yard — which two men hearing, they privately fol- 
lowed him. 

While in the yard, he fell on his knees, and prayed 
for some time with the greatest fervency, after which he 
arose, and returned to his bed. Those who attended 
him, appearing as though they were ignorant of all, 
came and asked him w T here he had been. But he would 
not answer them. The next day they importuned him 
to tell them, saying, " Be plain with us, for we heard 
your mourning, and saw your gestures." 

On this he, with a dejected countenance, said, "I had 
rather you had been in your beds." But they still 
pressing upon him to know something, he said, "I will 
tell you : I am assured that my warfare is near at an 
end ; and therefore pray to God with me that I shrink 
not when the battle waxeth most hot." 

Soon after, Cardinal Beaton, archbishop of St. An- 
drews, being informed that Mr. Wishart was at the 
house of Mr. Cockburn, of Ormiston, in East Lothian, 
he applied to the regent to cause him to be apprehended; 
with which, after great persuasion, and much against 
his will, he complied. 

In consequence of this, the cardinal immediately pro- 
ceeded to the trial of Wishart, against whom no less 
than eighteen articles were exhibited. Mr. Wishart 
answered the respective articles with great composure 
of mind, and in so learned and clear a manner, as 
greatly surprised most of those who were present. 

After the examination was finished, the archbishop 
endeavoured to prevail on Mr. Wishart to recant ; but 
he was too firmly fixed in his religious principles, and 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS. 129 

too much enlightened with the truth of the Gospel, to 
be in the least moved. 

As soon as he arrived at the stake, the executioner 
put a rope round his neck, and a chain about his middle ; 
upon which he fell on his knees, and thus exclaimed : — 

" thou Saviour of the world, have mercy upon me ! 
Father of heaven, I commend my spirit into thy holy 
hands.' ' 

After this he prayed for his accusers, saying, " I be- 
seech thee, Father of heaven, forgive them that have, 
from ignorance, or an evil mind, forged lies of me : I 
forgive them with all my heart. I beseech Christ to 
forgive them that have ignorantly condemned me." 



44. HUGH McKAIL. 

Hugh McKail, who was among the first victims in the 
twenty- eight years' persecution in Scotland, was exe- 
cuted in the twenty- sixth year of his age. His great 
influence and popular talents as a preacher made him an 
object of jealousy. He closed his powerful and eloquent 
speech on 1 the scaffold, in these sublime and touching 
words : " Now 1 leave off to speak any more to creatures, 
and begin my intercourse with God forever. Farewell, 
father and mother, friends and relations ; farewell, the 
world and all its delights; farewell, food and drink; 
farewell, sun, moon, and stars. Welcome, God and 
Father ; welcome, sweet Jesus, the Mediator of the New 
Testament; welcome, blessed Spirit of all grace, and 
God of consolations ; welcome, glory ; welcome, eternal 
life ; welcome, death !" And having prayed a few mo- 
ments, he lifted his eyes to heaven and cried with a loud 
voice, " Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit ; 
for thou hast redeemed my soul, Lord God of truth." 
While uttering this prayer he was launched into eternity. 

6* 



130 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



45. MONSIEUR HOMEL. 

M. Homel was the pastor of a Protestant Church in 
France, and suffered martyrdom at Tournon, in October, 
1683. At his execution he exclaimed : " I count myself 
happy, that I can die in my Maker's cause. What! 
would my gracious Redeemer descend from heaven to 
earth, that I might ascend from earth to heaven? 
Would he undergo an ignominious death, that I might 
be possessed of a most blessed life ? Verily, if after all 
this, to prolong a frail and miserable life, I should lose 
that which is everlasting, should I not be a most un- 
grateful wretch to my God, and a most cruel opposer of 
my own happiness ? No, no ; the die is cast, and 1 am 
immovable in my resolution. I breathe after that hour. 
0, when will that good hour come, that will put a period 
to my present miserable life, and give me the enjoy- 
ment of one which is infinitely blessed ? Farewell, my 
dear wife ; I know your tears, your continual sighs, 
hinder your bidding me adieu. Do not be troubled at 
this wheel upon which I must expire; 'tis to me a tri- 
umphal chariot, which will carry me into heaven. I see 
heaven opened, and my Jesus, with his outstretched 
arms, ready to receive me ; for he is the Divine spouse 
of my soul. 

" I am leaving the world, in which is nothing but ad- 
versity, in order to enter heaven, and enjoy everlasting 
felicity. You shall come to me ; I shall never come 
back to you. All that I recommend to you is, to edu- 
cate our dear children in the fear of God; and to be 
careful that they swerve not from the way prescribed to 
them in the Holy Scriptures. I Have bequeathed them 
a little formulary for their instruction, to the end that, 
if ever they be brought into the like condition with my- 



SEC. I.] CHRISTIAN MARTYRS, 131 

self, they may undergo it courageously, and be confident 
in the goodness of our God, who will send the Divine 
Comforter to strengthen them in all their straits and 
distresses. Prepare them for suffering betimes, to the 
end that in the great day, when we shall appear before 
the judgment- seat of Christ, we may be able to bespeak 
him, ' Lord, here we are, and the children which thou 
hast given us.' Ah! I shall never have done. Ah! why 
am I hindered from departing ? Farewell, my dear peo- 
ple. 'Tis the last farewell I shall ever give you. Be 
steadfast, be fixed ; and know that I never preached to 
you anything but the pure truth of the Gospel — the true 
way which leads to heaven." 

Somebody telling him that he had spoken too much ; 
"How," said he, "have I spoken too much? I have 
spoken nothing but the very truth. I have neither 
spoken nor done anything that is in the least injurious 
to the sacred majesty of our august monarch ; but on the 
contrary, I always exhorted the people, committed by 
the Lord to my charge, io render those honours which 
are due to our king. But as for our consciences, we 
hold them of our God, and must keep them for him." 
Then his judges, turning from him, ordered the execu- 
tioner to do his office ; which he did by breaking his 
arms and his legs. 

And being then asked, whether he would die a Roman 
Catholic, he answered : " How, my lords ! Had it been 
my design to have changed my religion, I would have 
done it before my bones had been thus broken to pieces. 
I wait only for the hour of my dissolution. Courage, 
courage, my soul! thou shalt presently enjoy the 
delights of heaven. And as for thee, my poor body, 
thou shalt be reduced to dust ; but it is for this end, that 
thou mayest be raised a spiritual body. Thou shalt see 
things that never entered into the heart of man, and 
which are in this life impossible to be conceived." 



132 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

Again addressing himself to his wife, he said, " Fare- 
well, once more, my well-beloved spouse. I am waiting 
for yon. But know, though you see my bones broken to 
shivers, my soul is replenished with inexpressible joys." 
Every limb, member, and bone of his body was 
broken with the iron bar forty hours before the execu- 
tioner was permitted to strike him upon the breast, 
with a stroke which they call Le coup de grace — the 
blow of mercy; that death- stroke which put an end to 
all his miseries. 



46. A NEGRO MARTYR. 

Some years ago, a healthy and most valuable slave on a 
West Indian plantation was converted to Christianity 
through the agency of the missionaries. His wicked 
and brutal master did all he could to make him renounce 
his Saviour. To effect this, he at first flogged him most 
unmercifully. This cruelty, however, did not move the 
poor African youth from his adherence to Christ. The 
master persevered in his inhuman conduct, till at length, 
on one day, memorable for the perpetration of the in- 
fernal deed, he was determined to make the poor slave 
renounce Christ, or flog him to death ! With horrible 
cruelty he lashed him till his flesh was torn, and it hung 
about him in tatters. With inhuman hardness, the mas- 
ter, while he was thus flogging his excellent slave, taunt- 
ingly inquired, "What now does your Jesus do for 
you ?" The boy replied, " He helps me to bear dese 
strokes, massa, with patience !" And when this heroic 
martyr, in the act of expiring, was sneeringly asked by 
his wretched tormentor, " And now what has your Jesus 
done for you?" He immediately answered with a fal- 
tering voice, " Even dis, massa, dat me can PRAY for 
you, and forgive you !" 






SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 133 

SECTION II. 

itlmtstera of % (©oapd. 

1. RISDOtf DARRACOTT. 

"The chamber where the Christian meets his fate, 
Is privileged beyond the common walk 
Of virtuous life, quite on the verge of heaven ; 
You see the man, you see his hold on heaven. 
Heaven waits not the last moment, owns her friends 
On this side, death, and points them out to man — 
A lecture silent, but of sovereign power, 
To vice confusion, and to virtue peace." — Young. 

This eminent servant of Christ was born in Dorset- 
shire, February, 1717; and in the same month his 
mother departed to rest with her Lord. Some of her 
ancestors had counted all things loss for the sake of 
Christ ; and had been voluntary exiles to this country, 
where freedom of conscience in things sacred might be 
enjoyed. The seeds of piety were early sown in the 
heart of his orphan son by an affectionate father, who 
was himself a minister of the Grospel. He was placed 
under the tuition of Doddridge, at Northampton, and by 
him he was tenderly beloved. Here his religious char- 
acter became established, and the piety of his heart and 
life assumed no ordinary cast. Wellington, in Somerset- 
shire, was the field of his ministerial labours. In view 
of his zeal, eloquence, and success, Mr. Whitefield said 
of him, that " he might justly be styled the star in the 
west ;" and a profane person exclaimed once as he passed 
by, " There goes a man who serves God as if the devil 
were in him." Immense audiences hung upon his minis- 
try, and multitudes were brought to Christ. In the ad- 
jacent villages, he opened houses of worship and preached 



134 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

weekly to the people. In this work he spared no pains, 
and shrunk from no labour. 

Towards the close of the year 1758, Mr. Darracott 
began to apprehend the approach of death. " I believe,'' 
said he, " that I am near my end — my work is done, and 
I am going home to my rest." On the evening of the 
same day he composed the following meditation, and 
sent it to a friend : — 

"Is this the voice of my dear Lord? ' Surely I come 
quickly.' Amen, says my willing, joyful soul ; even so, 
come, Lord Jesus ! Come, for I long to have done with 
this poor, low life ; to have done with its burdens, its 
sorrows, and its snares. Come, for 1 grow weary of this 
painful distance, and long to be at home ; long to be 
with thee, where thou art, that I may behold thy glory. 

" Come then, blessed Jesus, as soon as thou pleasest, 
and burst asunder these bonds of clay, which hold me 
from thee; break down these separating walls, which 
hinder me from thine embrace. Death is no more my 
dread, but rather the object of my desire. I welcome 
the stroke, which will prove so friendly to me ; which 
will knock off my fetters, throw open my prison doors, 
and set my soul at liberty ; which will free me (trans- 
porting thought !) from all those remainders of indwell- 
ing sin, under which I have long groaned in this, taber- 
nacle, and with which I have been maintaining a con- 
stant and painful conflict — but which all my weeping 
and praying, all my attending Divine ordinances, could 
never entirely cure me of; yea, will perfectly and for- 
ever free me from all my complaints, give me the an- 
swer of all my prayers, and put me at once in the eter- 
nal possession of my warmest wishes and hopes — even 
the sweet, beatifying presence of thee, blessed Jesus, 
whom having not seen, I love, and in whom, though now 
I see thee not, yet believing, I rejoice with joy un- 
speakable and full of glory. This world has now no 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 135 

more charms to attract my heart, or make me wish a 
moment's longer stay. I have no engagements to delay 
my farewell. Nothing to detain me now. My soul is 
on the wing. Joyfully do I quit mortality, and here 
cheerfully take my leave of all 1 ever held dear below. 

" Farewell, my dear Christian friends ! I have taken 
sweet counsel with you in the way ; but I leave you for 
sweeter, better converse above. You will soon follow 
me, and then our delightful communion shall be unin- 
terrupted, as well as perfect, and our society be broken 
up no more forever. Farewell, in particular, my dearest 

. How has our friendship ripened almost to the 

maturity of heaven ! How tenderly and closely are our 
hearts knit to one another ! Nor shall the sweet union be 
dissolved by death. Being one in Christ, we shall be 
one forever. With what eternal thankfulness shall we 
remember that word, ' Christ is all in all !' He was so 
then indeed, and he will ever be so. Mourn not that I 
go to him first. 'Tis but a little while, and you will 
come after. 0, with what joy, think you, shall I wel- 
come your arrival on the heavenly shore, and conduct 
you to him whom our souls so dearly love? What 
though we meet no more at Wellington, we shall, we 
assuredly shall, embrace one another in heaven, never 
to part more. Till then, adieu ! and now I leave you 
with the warmest wishes of all felicity to attend you, and 
the most grateful overflowings of heart for all the kindest 
tokens of the most endearing friendship I ever received 
from you. 

" Farewell, thou my dearest wife ; my most affection- 
ate, delightful companion in heaven's road, w T hom Grod in 
the greatest mercy gave me, and has thus to the end of 
my race graciously continued to me ! For all thy care, 
thy love, thy prayers, I bless my God and thank thee in 
these departing moments. But, dear as thou art, (and 
dearest of all that is mortal I hold thee,) I now find it 



136 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

easy to part from thee, to go to that Jesus thine and 
mine, who is infinitely more dear to me. With him I 
cheerfully leave thee, nor doubt his care of thee, who has 
loved thee, and given himself for thee. 'Tis but a short 
separation we shall have ; our spirits will soon reunite, 
and then never, never know separation more. For as we 
have been companions in the patience and tribulation of 
our Lord's kingdom, we shall assuredly be so in his glory. 

"Farewell, my dear children! I leave you; but God 
has bound himself by a most inviolable promise, to take 
care of you. Only choose him for your own God, who 
has been your father's God, and then, though I leave 
you exposed in the waves of a dangerous and wicked 
world, Providence, eternal and almighty Providence, 
has undertaken to pilot and preserve you. With com- 
fortable hope, therefore, I bid you my last adieu ; plead- 
ing the faithful and true promise ; saying, as the patri- 
arch, ' I die,' my dear children, ' but God will be with 
you;' praying in humble faith, that your souls, with 
those of your parents, may be bound up in the bundle 
of life with the Lord your God. 

" Farewell, ye my dear people, to whom I have been 
preaching the everlasting Gospel — that Gospel which is 
now all my hope and all my joy ! Many, very many of 
you are my present rejoicing, and will be my eternal 
crown of glory. And now I am leaving you, I bless 
God for all the success he has been graciously pleased 
to give my poor labours among you; for all the com- 
fortable seasons of grace I have . enjoyed with you. 
Adieu, my dear friends ! I part with you this day at 
the sacred table of our blessed Lord, in the confidence 
and hope, that though I shall drink no more with you 
this fruit of the vine, I shall drink it new with you in 
the kingdom of our heavenly Father. Only, my breth- 
ren, my dearly beloved and longed for, my joy and crown, 
so stand fast in the Lord, my dearly beloved. But for 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 137 

the rest of you, 1 mourn to think in what a miserable 
condition I am leaving you; and though you will no 
more hear my voice, and have often, alas ! heard it to no 
purpose, this once hear and regard my dying charge — 
that you do not continue in a Christless and uncon- 
verted state, nor meet me in that state at the day of 
judgment. 

" And now, farewell, praying and preaching, my most 
delightful work! Farewell, ye Sabbaths and sacra- 
ments, and all Divine ordinances ! I have now done 
with you all, and you have done all that was to be done 
for me. As the manna, and the rock, in the wilderness, 
you have supplied me with sweet refreshments by the 
way ; and now I am leaving you, I bless my God for all 
the comfort and edification I have received by your 
means as the appointed channel of Divine communica- 
tions. But now I have no more need of you. I am 
going to the God of ordinances ; to that fountain of liv- 
ing waters, which has filled these pools below ; and in- 
stead of sipping at the streams, I shall now be forever 
satisfied from the fountain-head. 

"Farewell, now, my poor body! Thou shalt be no 
more a clog to my active spirit — no more hinder me in 
the service of God, no more ensnare my soul, and pol- 
lute it with sin. And now an everlasting farewell to 
all sins and sorrows, all doubts and fears, conflicts 
and temptations ! Farewell to earth and all terrestrial 
scenes ! Ye are now no more ! An infinitely brighter 
prospect opens to me !" 

" See the guardian angels nigh 
Wait to waft my soul on high ! 
See the golden gates displayed ! 
See the crown to grace my head ! 
See a flood of sacred light, 
Which shall yield no more to night ! 
Transitory world, farewell ! 
Jesus calls with him to dwell/' 



138 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

His illness, proceeding from stones in the kidneys, 
was attended with intervals of the most excruciating 
pain; yet nothing was heard from his lips but con- 
tinual expressions of praise and thanksgiving. He said 
to a brother minister, " How sweet to see our comforts 
and our crosses, our joyful and mournful circumstances, 
our life and our death, all in the hands of such a Father; 
all equally under his direction, and all evidently de- 
signed by him for our good; all proceeding from his 
everlasting love which he had for us, terminating at last 
in our everlasting salvation ! This lays an easy founda- 
tion for that precept, which is a strange one to a carnal 
world — ' In everything give thanks.' " 

About three weeks before he died, on a Lord's- day 
morning, he said to one that was standing by, " I am 
going to that Jesus whom I love, and whom I have so 
often preached. 'Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly;' 
why are thy chariot wheels delayed ?" The night be- 
fore he died, he was in a delightful frame, full of hea- 
venly joy, with his intellectual faculties as strong as 
ever. When the apothecary came in, he said, " Mr. 
EL, what a mercy it is to be interested in the atoning 
blood of Christ ! You tell me I am dying ; how long do 
you think it will be first ?" It was answered, " That is 
uncertain to a few hours." " Will it be to-night?" said 
he. It was answered, " I believe you will survive the 
night." " Well," he exclaimed, " all is well, 1 am ready." 
" This, sir," addressing the apothecary, " is agreeable to 
the doctrine 1 have at all times preached, that 1 now 
come to the Lord as a vile sinner, trusting on the merits 
and precious blood of my dear Redeemer. grace, 
grace, free grace !" He desired to see some of his flock ; 
but when they came, his spirits were exhausted by talk- 
ing nearly three quarters of an hour. He said to them, 
however, " In the faith of that doctrine I have preached 
to you, I am going to die." He then related his expe- 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 139 

rience of the goodness of God to him in his sickness, and 
said, " If I had a thousand lives to live I would live them 
all for Christ ; 1 have cast anchor on him, and rely on 
his blood, and am going to venture my all upon him." 
He then took his leave of each in a very solemn manner, 
and said, " Watch your hearts, and keep them with all 
diligence, for out of them is the issue of life." 

Calling for his wife and children, he took his leave of 
them with the utmost composure and serenity of mind, 
and submission to his Father's will. Observing them and 
all his other friends weeping, he said to his wife, " My 
dear and precious wife, why do you weep ? you should 
rejoice. Rely on the promises. God will never leave 
nor forsake you; all his promises are true and sure. 
Well, I am going from weeping friends to congratulat- 
ing angels and rejoicing saints in heaven and glory. 
Blessed be God, all is well !." 

He asked, "How much longer will it be before I 
gain nry dismission ?" It was answered, " Not long." 
" Well," he observed, " Here is nothing on earth I de- 
sire ; here I am waiting ! What a mercy to be in Jesus !" 
He then threw abroad his arms, and said, " He is com- 
ing ! he is coming ! But surely this cannot be death ; 
how astonishingly is the Lord softening my passage; 
surely God is too good, too good to such a worm ! 
speed thy chariot wheels ! Why art thou so long in 
coming ? I long to be gone." Afc length he exclaimed, 
as if beginning a sentence, " Faith and hope :" these 
were his last words. About eleven o'clock in the morn- 
ing he lay down ; and just before twelve, fell asleep in 
Jesus, whom he so much loved. 

According to his request, a post-mortem examination 
was had, to ascertain the disorder of which he died. 
Five stones were found in the left kidney, which had 
been so inflamed that putrefaction had nearly consumed 
that organ. The parts contiguous having partaken of 



140 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

the inflammation, betrayed the agony which he must 
have endured. 

The funeral of Mr. Darracott was attended by an im- 
mense multitude, and the death of the holy man regarded 
as a public calamity. And for many years his memory 
was cherished with the most lively gratitude by multi- 
tudes who had been blessed by his ministry. It is said 
that, forty years later, the remains of his devoted widow, 
at her own request, were deposited with those of her 
husband. When the tomb was opened, there was pre- 
sent a person who had been deeply affected under the 
ministry of Mr. Darracott, but had turned aside to the 
world, and had for many years neglected the duties of 
religion. The sight of the bones of her former pastor 
recalled so forcibly the views and feelings, which his 
animating voice and fervent zeal had first produced, that 
she burst forth in expressions of alarm and anguish. 
Thus the righteous man "being dead, yet speaketh;" 
from his tomb goes forth a voice at once alarming to the 
wicked, and grateful to the believer in Christ. 



2. EDWARD PAYSON, D. D. 

" Through nature's wreck, through vanquish'd agonies, 
Like stars struggling through this midnight gloom, 
What gleams of joy ! what more than human peace !" — Young. 

Edward Payson was born at Bindge, New-Hamp- 
shire, July 25, 1783. At the age of twenty he was 
graduated at Harvard University, and the three follow- 
ing years had charge of an academy in Portland, Maine. 
When about twenty-one years of age, religion became 
his all- engrossing concern, and never afterwards could 
he be diverted from the all-absorbing interest of his 
soul. Henceforward he was accustomed to say, " The 
vows of God are upon me;" and unceasing were his 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 141 

efforts to keep the vows which his lips had uttered. In 
1807 he was settled as pastor of the Church in Port- 
land; and here he continued with unceasing fidelity, 
and with eminent success, to exercise his ministry for 
twenty years, till called from his toils and sufferings to 
his eternal reward. 

During his whole life he had been more or less sub- 
ject to disease and bodily infirmity. Long did he sus- 
tain himself by the grace of God against the encroach- 
ments of disease. But in the spring of 1827 he began 
to fail, and it was evident that his work was well nigh 
done. His left side, and also his right arm, became 
incapable of motion, and lost all sensibility of feeling ; 
while, in the interior of the affected limbs, he expe- 
rienced a burning sensation, which he compared to a 
stream of fused metal or liquid fire coursing through 
his bones. He was also subject to the most violent 
attacks of nervous head- ache. But even when con- 
vinced that the hour of his departure was at hand, he 
could not consent to cease from preaching. His public 
ministrations during this period, when his body was 
sinking toward the grave, were not only adapted to his 
peculiar circumstances, but were surpassingly eloquent 
and instructive. 

An eye-witness thus describes one of his last com- 
munion seasons : — " It was an affecting, a soul-cheering 
scene. Its interest was greatly enhanced by the near- 
ness in which he seemed to stand to the communion of 
the Church triumphant. His body was so emaciated 
with long and acute suffering that it was scarcely able 
to sustain the effort once more imposed upon it; but 
his soul, raised above its perishing influence, and filled 
with a joyful tranquillity, seemed entirely regardless of 
the weakness of its mortal tenement. His right hand 
and arm were so palsied by disease as to be quite use- 
less ; except that in the act of breaking bread, when he 



142 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

could not well dispense with it, he placed it on the table 
with the other hand — -just as you raise any lifeless 
weight — until it had performed the service required of it. 
I have never known Dr. Payson when he seemed more 
abstracted from earth than on this occasion. It was, as 
he supposed, and as his Church feared, their final in- 
terview at that table. In all the glowing fervour of 
devotion, assisted by his ever-fertile imagination, he 
contemplated the Saviour as visibly present in the 
midst of them. There was a breathless silence; and 
the solemnity of the scene could hardly have been sur- 
passed, if, as he expressed it, the Lord Jesus Christ 
were seen sitting before them, addressing to each indi- 
vidual member the momentous inquiry, 'Lovest thou 
me?'" 

On the 1st of July, after a sermon from his assistant, 
he rose, and thus addressed his people : — " Ever since 
I became a minister it has been my earnest wish that I 
might die of some disease which would allow me to 
preach a farewell sermon to my people ; but as it is not 
probable that I shall ever be able to do this, I will 
attempt to say a few words now ; — it may be the last 
time I shall ever address you. This is not merely a 
presentiment. It is an opinion founded on facts, and 
maintained by physicians acquainted with my case, that 
I shall never see another spring. And now, standing 
on the borders of the eternal world, I look back on my 
past ministry, and on the manner in which I have per- 
formed its duties ; and 0, my hearers, if you have not 
performed your duties better than I have mine, woe! 
woe ! be to you, unless you have an Advocate and Inter- 
cessor in heaven ! We have lived together twenty 
years, and have spent more than a thousand Sabbaths 
together, and I have given you at least two thousand 
warnings. I am now going to render an account how 
they were given ; and you, my hearers, will soon have 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 143 

to render an account how you have received. One more 
warning 1 will give you. Once more your shepherd, 
who will be yours no longer, entreats you to flee from 
the wrath to come. 0, let me have the happiness of 
seeing my dear people attending to their eternal inte- 
rests, that I may not have reason to say, 'I have la- 
boured in vain — 1 have spent my strength for naught !' " 

His public labours were now nearly over ; and on the 
5th of August he entered the church for the last time. 
It was communion Sabbath; and his last public acts 
were the admission of twenty-one persons to the fellow- 
ship of the Church, and dispensing the holy sacrament 
to his flock. It was with great effort, although sup- 
ported by his deacons, that he entered the house ; and 
the performance of the service entirely overcame him. 
At its close, his people crowded around him to take his 
hand for the last time, and bid him the last farewell. 
Twenty years before he had entered that church for the 
first time as a preacher — then, a trembling youth ; now, 
the spiritual father of many hundreds : then, just girded 
for the warfare; now, the veteran who had "fought the 
good fight,'' and was just going to resign his commis- 
sion and receive a crown of unfading glory. 

Thus closed the public career of Edward Payson : 
let us now follow him after he has retired, as it were, 
from the public view, and is journeying down into the 
vale of death. When asked if he could see any par- 
ticular reason for this dispensation : "No," he replied; 
"but I am as well satisfied as if I could see ten 
thousand. God's will is the very perfection of all 
reason." 

One inquired, " Are you better than you were ?" 

He replied, " Not in body, but inmind. If my happiness 
continues to increase, I cannot support it much longer. 
God deals strangely with his creatures to promote their 
happiness. Who would have thought that I must be 



144 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

reduced to this state, — helpless and crippled, — to expe- 
rience the highest enjoyment !" 

During the course of the conversation he repeated 
this verse, " Thy sun shall no more go down, neither 
shall thy moon withdraw itself; for the Lord shall be 
thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning 
shall be ended." Then turning to a young lady pre- 
sent, he said, " Do you not think this is worth travel- 
ling over many high hills and difficult places to obtain ? 
Dr. Clarke, in his travels, speaking of the companies 
that were travelling from the East to Jerusalem, repre- 
sents the procession as being very long; and, after 
climbing over the extended and heavy ranges of hills 
that bounded the way, some of the foremost at length 
reached the top of the last hill, and, stretching up their 
hands in gestures of joy, cried out, 'The Holy City! 
the Holy City !' and fell down and worshipped ; while 
those that were behind pressed forward to see. So the 
dying Christian, when he gets on the last summit of 
life, and stretches his vision to catch a glimpse of the 
heavenly city, may cry out, and incite those who are 
behind to press forward to the sight." Soon after, he 
exclaimed, " I am going to Mount Zion, to the city of 
the living God, to the heavenly Jerusalem, to an in- 
numerable company of angels, to the general assembly 
and Church of the first-born, and to God, the Judge 
of all." 

A letter indited to his sister about this time, is highly 
descriptive of the glories that ravished his soul. " Were 
I to adopt," said he, " the figurative language of Bunyan, 
I might date this letter from the land of Beulah, of 
which I have been for some weeks a happy inhabitant. 
The celestial city is full in view. Its glories beam upon 
me; its breezes fan me; its odours are wafted to me; 
its sounds strike upon my ears ; and its spirit is 
breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me from 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 145 

it but the river of death, which now appears but as an 
insignificant rill that may be crossed at a single step, 
whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of 
righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and 
nearer, appearing larger and brighter as he approached, 
and now he fills the whole hemisphere, pouring forth a 
flood of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in 
the beams of the sun, exulting, yet almost trembling 
while I gaze upon this excessive brightness, and won- 
dering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign 
thus to shine upon a sinful worm." 

At one time he was heard to break forth into the 
following soliloquy : — " What an assemblage of motives 
to holiness does the Gospel present ! I am a Christian 
— what then ? Why, 1 am a redeemed sinner — a par- 
doned rebel — all through grace, and by the most won- 
derful means which infinite Wisdom could devise. I 
am a Christian — what then ? Why, I am a temple of 
God, and surely I ought to be pure and holy. I am a 
Christian — what then ? I am a child of God, and ought 
to be filled with filial love, reverence, joy, and gratitude. 
I am a Christian — what then ? Why, I am a discipla 
of Christ, and must imitate him, who was meek and 
lowly in heart, and pleased not himself. I am a Chris- 
tian — what then? Why, I am an heir of heaven, and 
hastening on to the abodes of the blessed, to join the 
full choir of glorified ones in singing the song of Moses 
and the Lamb, and surely I ought to learn that song on 
earth." 

Mrs. Pay son, while ministering to him, observed 
" Your head feels hot, and seems to be distended." To 
which he replied, "It seems as if the soul disdained 
such a narrow prison, and was determined to break 
through with an angel's energy, and, I trust, with no 
small portion of an angel's feeling, until it mounts on 
high." Soon after, — " It seems as if my soul had found 

7 



146 DEATH- BED SCENES. [PART I. 

a pair of new wings, and was so eager to try them that, 
in her fluttering, she would rend the fine net- work of 
the body to pieces." Again : " Hitherto I have viewed 
God as a fixed star, — bright, indeed, but often inter- 
cepted by clouds; but now he is coming nearer and 
nearer, and spreads into a Sun, so vast and glorious 
that the sight is too dazzling for flesh and blood to sus- 
tain." Conversing with a friend on his preparation for 
his departure, he compared himself to a person who 
had, visiting his friends, been long absent from home, 
and was about to return. His trunk was packed, and 
everything prepared, and he was looking out of the 
window, waiting for the stage to take him in. 

On the 21st of October, 1827; his dying agony com- 
menced. A difficulty of respiration causing excruciat- 
ing distress, and accompanied by a rattling in the 
throat, such as often precedes dissolution, gave warn- 
ing of death's approach. When his daughter, who had 
been called home from the Sabbath school, entered, he 
smiled upon her, kissed her affectionately, and said, 
" God bless you, my daughter !" Soon after he ex- 
claimed, "Peace! peace! victory! victory!" Turning 
a glance of inexpressible tenderness upon his wife and 
children, he said to them, — almost in the words of dying 
Joseph to his brethren, — "I am going; but God will 
surely be with you." The power of utterance had now 
nearly failed him. His friends watched him, expecting 
every moment to see him expire, till near noon, when 
his distress partially left him, and he said to the phy- 
sician, who was feeling his pulse, that he found he was 
not to be released yet ; and though he had suffered the 
pangs of death, and had got almost within the gates of 
Paradise, — yet, if it was God's will that he should come 
back and suffer still more, he was resigned. He passed 
through a similar scene in the afternoon, and, to the 
surprise of every one, was again relieved. 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 147 

On Monday morning his dying agonies returned in 
all their extremity. For three hours every breath was 
a groan. Mrs. Payson fearing, from the expression of 
suffering in his countenance, that he was in mental as 
well as bodily anguish, questioned him upon the subject. 
With extreme difficulty he was enabled to articulate the 
words, " Faith and patience hold out." About midday 
the pain of respiration abated, and a partial stupor 
succeeded. Still, however, he continued intelligent, 
and evidently able to recognise all present; and his 
eyes and countenance spoke after his tongue had become 
motionless. He looked on Mrs. Payson, and then his 
eye, glancing over the others who surrounded his bed, 
rested on Edward, his eldest son, with an expression 
which said, and which was interpreted by all present to 
say, as plainly as if he had uttered the words addressed 
to the beloved disciple, " Behold thy mother !" There 
was no visible indication of the return of his sufferings. 
He gradually sunk away, till about the going down of 
the sun, when his happy spirit was set at liberty. 

Dr. Payson' s "ruling passion was strong in death." 
His love for preaching was as invincible as that of the 
miser for gold, who dies grasping his treasure. He 
directed a label to be placed on his breast, by which he, 
being dead, might yet speak to those who should come 
to look upon his corpse. On the label was written, 
''Remember the words which I spake unto you while I 
was yet present with you." The same words, by re- 
quest of his people, were engraven on the plate of the 
coffin, and read by thousands on the day of interment. 
Nothing could be more appropriate than the subject of 
the discourse which formed the closing scene in this 
illustrious example of Christian triumph : " I am now 
ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at 
hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my 
course, I have kept the faith : henceforth there is laid 



148 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART L 

up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the 
righteous Judge, shall give me at that day ; and not to 
me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing." 
2 Tim. iv, 6-8. 



3. RICHARD BAXTER. 

44 Love in his heart, persuasion on his tongue, 
With words of peace he charm'd the list'ning throng ; 
Drew the dread veil that wrapp'd the' eternal throne, 
And launch'd their souls into the bright unknown," — Baebauld. 

In very early life devout impressions appear to have 
been made upon the mind of Baxter. His father said, 
with tears of joy, " I hope my son Richard was sancti- 
fied from the womb." When a little child, he w T ould 
reprove other children if he heard them using profane 
words. When he grew up, he entered the ministry. 
He laboured in several places ; but Kidderminster was 
the principal sphere of his exertions. Here his minis- 
try w T as crowned with astonishing success. After a few 
active years, persecution drove him from the field of 
exertion ; yet still he laboured, though not to the same 
extent, and suffered also. His own generation was de- 
prived of much of the benefit they might have reaped 
from a man who may have had equals, but seldom a 
superior ; yet their loss has been the gain of succeed- 
ing generations; and Baxter, though dead, speaks to 
thousands in his invaluable writings. 

Like Moses, he chose affliction with the people of 
God ; for a bishopric was offered him, which he refused. 
He lived, he w T rote, he laboured, as with eternity in 
sight. He passed through a life of labours, sorrows, 
and persecutions. 

When this great and good man drew near the con- 
clusion of life, his last hours were spent in preparing 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 149 

others and himself to appear before God. He said to 
his friends that visited him, " You come hither to learn 
to die ; I can assure you that your whole life, be it ever 
so long, is little enough to prepare for death. Have a 
care of this vain, deceitful world, and the lusts of the 
flesh. Be sure you choose God for your portion, 
heaven for your home, God's glory for your end, his 
word for your rule, and then you need never fear but 
we shall meet with comfort." Never was a penitent 
sinner more humble in debasing himself; never was a 
sincere believer more calm and comfortable. He ac- 
knowledged himself to be the vilest dunghill- worm (his 
usual expression) that ever went to heaven. He ad- 
mired the Divine condescension to us, often saying, 
"Lord, what is man? what am I, a vile worm, to the 
great God?" Many times he prayed, " God be merci- 
ful to me a sinner !" and blessed God that this was left 
upon record in the Gospel as an effectual prayer. He 
said, " God may justly condemn me for the best duty I 
ever did ; and all my hopes are from the free mercy of 
God in Christ;" which he often prayed for. After a 
slumber, he waked and said, " I shall rest from my 
labour." . A minister then present, added, " And your 
works follow you." To whom he replied, " No works ; 
I will leave out works, if God will grant me the other." 
When a friend was comforting him with the remem- 
brance of the good many had received by his preaching 
and writings, he said, " I was but a pen in God's hand; 
and what praise is due to a pen?" His resigned sub- 
mission to the will of God in his sharp sickness was 
eminent. When extremity of pain constrained him 
earnestly to pray to God for his release by death, he 
would check himself, saying, " It is not fit for me to 
prescribe, — when thou wilt, what thou wilt, and how 
thou wilt." Being in great anguish, he said, " how 
unsearchable are His ways, and His paths past finding 



150 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

out ! the riches of his Providence we cannot fathom I" 
and to his friends, "Do not think the worse of religion 
for what you see me suffer." Being often asked how it 
was with his inward man, he replied, " I bless God I 
have a well-grounded assurance of my eternal happiness, 
and great peace and comfort within;" but it was his 
trouble that he could not triumphantly express it, in 
consequence of extreme pain. He said, "Flesh must 
perish, and we must feel the perishing of it; and 
though our judgment submits, yet sense will still make 
us groan." He gave excellent counsel to some young 
ministers that visited him, and earnestly prayed for 
them and for the Church of Christ. He said to a friend 
the day before he died, " I have pain, there is no arguing 
against sense ; but I have peace, I have peace." His 
friend replied, " You are now approaching your long- 
desired home." He answered, " I believe, I believe." 
As he approached near his end, when asked how he did, 
his usual reply was, " Almost well." And when, in his 
own apprehension, death was nearest, his joy was most 
remarkable. The long wished-for hour at length ar- 
rived, and in his own expressive language, he became 
" entirely well." He died December 8, 1691. 



4. DR. DODDRIDGE. 

" There is no death: what seems so is transition; 
This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 

Whose portal we call death." — Longfellow. 

Philip Doddridge was born in London in the year 
1702. His parents were both pious, and descendants 
of those who had suffered for the sake of Christ. His 
mother early endeavoured to fix Divine truths in his 
infant mind ; and the impressions then made upon his 



r 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. ' 151 

heart were never effaced; and to them, no doubt, the 
world is greatly indebted for so illustrious an example 
of Christian virtue and experience. 

At the age of twenty he entered the ministry. His 
first sermon w T as preached at Hinckley, from the text, 
* If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be 
anathema maranatha." Two persons ascribed their 
awakening and conversion to the Divine blessing on 
that sermon. His first settlement was at Kibworth, in 
1723, and his final settlement, in 1729, at Northampton. 
He was a man of unwearied diligence, both as a pastor 
and a scholar. It was his rule to devote eight hours 
every day to study and devotion — rising at five o'clock 
through the whole year ; and to this habit he ascribed 
not only his attainments as a scholar, but his writings 
generally. 

As a minister of the everlasting Gospel, he shone 
with peculiar lustre, and was truly a burning and a 
shining light. As a writer, he left monuments of his 
piety, industry, and zeal, which have been a blessing to 
many in the present and past age, and w T hich will, 
doubtless, prove a blessing to many in ages yet to come. 
As a Christian, few have appeared with less defect, and 
few have reached similar heights of glowing piety. The 
prime and leading feature of his soul w T as that of de- 
votion. He said, " When I pray and meditate most, I 
work most." This was the pervading principle of his 
actions, whether public or private. He was diligent, 
anxious to do good, humble, patient, zealous, full of 
love to Grod, to his adored Redeemer, and to man. 

In the fall of 1750 he contracted a severe cold by 
exposure, from which he obtained only temporary re- 
lief ; and it soon became painfully evident that his 
career of usefulness was nearly completed. As he 
approached the hour of dissolution, there was a mani- 
fest increase of spirituality and heavenly-mindedness. 



152 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

He seemed to rise above the world ; his affections were 
more strongly than ever set upon heaven, and he was 
daily breathing after immortality. In some letters to 
his friends, about this time, he thus expressed himself: 
"I bless God, earth is less and less to me; and I shall 
be very glad to have done with it once for all, as soon 
as it shall please my Master to give me leave. Yet for 
him I would live and labour; and, I hope, if such were 
his will, suffer too." " I thank God, that I do indeed 
feel my affection to this vanishing world dying and 
vanishing every day. I have long since weighed it in 
the balances, and found it wanting ; and my heart and 
hopes are above. Fain would I attain more lively 
views of glory. Fain would I feel more powerful attrac- 
tions toward that world, where you and I, through grace, 
soon shall be ; and in the mean time would be exerting 
myself more and more to people that blessed, but neg- 
lected region." " Go on to pray for me, that my heart 
may be fixed upon God ; that every motion and every 
word may be directed by love to him and zeal for his 
glory, and leave me with him as cheerfully as I leave 
myself. He will do well with his servant, according to 
his word, * Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without 
him ;' and though I am indeed, I think, ' less than the 
least of all saints,' I am, nevertheless, of more value than 
many sparrows. May you increase, while I decrease ; 
and shine many years as a bright star in the Redeemer's 
hand, when I am set !" 

He preached his final discourse to his congregation on 
July 14, 1751, from Rom. xiv, 8 : " For whether we live, 
we live unto the Lord ; and whether we die, we die unto the 
Lord: whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's." 

His physician judged it proper for him to make trial 
of the Bristol waters. He removed there, and received 
many marks of affection from persons with whom he had 
no previous acquaintance. 






SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 153 

While he continued at Bristol, some of the principal 
persons of his congregation came to visit him, with an 
affection not to be expressed ; they brought him an assu- 
rance of the high esteem and tender sympathy of his 
people and friends at home, and informed him that 
prayer was made by the Church for him three evenings 
in every week ; and that some other Churches were en- 
gaged in the same work on his account. This afforded 
him great satisfaction and refreshment. He knew their 
prayers would not be, upon the whole, vain ; though he 
considered his own case as desperate, and said, that un- 
less God should interpose in such an extraordinary man- 
ner as he had no reason to expect, he could not long con- 
tinue in the land of the living. He ascribed to the effi- 
cacy of the prayers of his friends, the composure and joy 
he felt in his own soul, and the preservation of Mrs. 
Doddridge's health, amidst incessant fatigue and con- 
cern, which he acknowledged as a singular blessing. 
But while the outward man was so sensibly decaying, 
that he used to say to his friends, "I die daily," yet the 
" inward man was renewed day by day." The warmth 
of his devotion, zeal, and friendship, was maintained and 
increased. 

As a last means that could afford any hope of restor- 
ing his health, he was advised to try a warmer climate. 
A friend who visited him just before he departed from 
England, gave the following account of his condition and 
of the expressions that dropped from his almost dying 
lips : — 

" He coughs much, is hoarse, speaks inwardly with a 
low voice. He is affected with the loss of his voice, 
being desirous to preach Christ, and to speak for him, 
w T hile he lives. He is preparing for a journey, through 
roads rendered exceedingly bad by much wet, to embark 
at Falmouth. 'My soul,' saith he, 'is vigorous and 
healthy, notwithstanding the hastening decav of this frail 

7* 



154 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and tottering body. It is not for the love of sunshine 
or the variety of meats, that I desire life, but, if it please 
God, that I may render him a little more service. It is 
a blessed thing to live above the fear of death, and I 
praise God, that I fear it not. The means I am about 
pursuing to save life, so far as I am solely concerned, 
are, to my apprehension, worse than death. My profuse 
night- sweats are very weakening to my emaciated frame ; 
but the most distressing nights to this frail body have 
been as the beginning of heaven to my soul. God hath, 
as it were, let heaven down upon me in those nights of 
weakness and waking. I am not suffered once to lose 
my hope. My confidence is, not that I have lived such 
or such a life, or served God in this or the other man- 
ner; I know of no prayer I ever offered, no service I 
ever performed, but there has been such a mixture of 
what Avas wrong in it, that instead of recommending me 
to the favour of God, I needed his pardon, through 
Christ, for the same. Yet he hath enabled me in sin- 
cerity to serve him. Popular applause was not the thing 
I sought. If I might be honoured to do good, and my 
heavenly Father might see his poor child attempting, 
though feebly and imperfectly, to serve him, and meet 
w T ith his approving eye and commending sentence, " Well 
done, good and faithful servant," — this my soul regarded 
and was most solicitous for. I have no hope in what I 
have been, or done. Yet 1 am full of confidence ; and 
this is my confidence ; there is a hope set before me : I 
have fled, I still fly for refuge to that hope. In him I 
trust ; in him I have strong consolation, and shall as- 
suredly be accepted in this Beloved of my soul. The 
Spirit of adoption is given me, enabling me to cry, Abba, 
Father. I have no doubt of my being a child of God, 
and that life and death, and all my present exercises are 
directed in mercy, by my adored heavenly Father.' " 
He sailed from Falmouth for Lisbon, on the 30th of 



SEC. IL] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 155 

September, 1751. On the passage, he several times 
said to Mrs. Doddridge, " I cannot express to you what 
a morning I have had ; such delightful and transporting 
views of the heavenly world is my Father now indulging 
me with, as no words can express.'' There appeared 
such sacred gratitude and joy in his countenance as often 
reminded her of those lines in one of his hymns, 

" When death, o'er nature shall prevail, 
And all its powers of language fail, 
Joy through my swimming eyes shall break, 
And mean the thanks I cannot speak." 

He landed at Lisbon on Lord's day, October 13th. 
The next day he wrote to his assistant at Northampton, 
and gave him a short account of his voyage, and, after 
mentioning his great weakness and clanger, he adds : — 
u Nevertheless, I bless God, the most undisturbed se- 
renity continues in my mind, and my strength holds 
proportion to my day. I still hope and trust in God, 
and joyfully acquiesce in all he may do with me. When 
you see my dear friends of the congregation, inform them 
of my circumstances, and assure them that I cheerfully 
submit myself to God. If I desire life may be restored, 
it is chiefly that it may be employed in serving Christ 
among them ; and that I am enabled by faith to look 
upon death as an enemy that shall be destroyed; and 
can cheerfully leave my dear Mrs. Doddridge a widow 
in this strange land, if such be the appointment of our 
heavenly Father. I hope I have done my duty, and the 
Lord do as seemeth good in his sight!" 

The night of Thursday, October 24th, seemed the last 
of rational life ; his mind continued in the same vigour, 
calmness, and joy, which he had felt and expressed dur- 
ing his whole illness. Mrs. Doddridge still attended 
him ; and he said to her, " That he had been making it 
his humble and earnest request, that God would support 



156 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and comfort her ; that it had been his desire, if it were 
the Divine will, to stay a little longer upon earth to pro- 
mote the honour and interest of his beloved Lord and 
Master ; but now, the only pain he felt in the thought of 
dying was, his fear of that distress and grief which would 
come upon her in case of his removal." After a short 
pause, he added, " But I am sure my heavenly Father 
will be with you. It is a joy to me to think, how many 
friends and comforts you are returning to. So sure I 
am that God will be with you and comfort you, that I 
think my death will be a greater blessing to you than 
ever my life hath been." After lying still some time, 
and being supposed asleep, he told her he had been re- 
newing his covenant engagements with God ; and though 
he had not felt all that delight and joy which he had so 
often done, yet he was sure the Lord was his God, and 
he had a cheerful, well-grounded hope, through the Re- 
deemer, of being received to his everlasting mercy. He 
lay in a gentle doze the following day, and continued so 
till about an hour before he died ; when, in his last strug- 
gle, he appeared restless, fetched several deep sighs, 
and quickly after obtained his release from the burden 
of the flesh, on Saturday, October 26th. 

But though he died in a foreign land and among 
strangers, yet was his departure sincerely mourned and 
his burial accompanied with many tears. The righteous 
are had in everlasting remembrance. 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 157 



5. JOHN WESLEY. 

"Then, then I rose ; then, first, humanity 
Triumphant pass'd the crystal ports of light, 
Stupendous guest, and seized eternal youth." — Young. 

This extraordinary man, upon completing his eighty- 
second year, says, " Is anything too hard for God? It 
is now eleven years since I have felt any such thing as 
weariness. Many times I speak till my voice fails and 
I can speak no longer. Frequently I walk till my 
strength fails and I can walk no farther; yet, even 
then, I feel no sensation of weariness, but am perfectly 
easy from head to foot. I dare not impute this to na- 
tural causes, — it is the will of God." 

"Within the four succeeding years, a great change had 
taken place ; and upon his eighty- sixth birthday, he says, 
"I now find I grow old. My sight is decayed, so that 
I cannot read a small print, unless in a strong light. 
My strength is decayed, so that I walk much slower 
than I did some years since. My memory of names, 
whether . of persons or places, is decayed, till I stop a 
little to recollect them. What I should be afraid of is, 
if I took thought for the morrow, that my body should 
weigh down my mind, and create either stubbornness, 
by the decrease of my understanding, or peevishness, 
by the increase of bodily infirmities. But thou shalt 
answer for me, Lord, my God !" His strength now 
diminished so much, that he found it difficult to preach 
more than twice a- day ; and for many weeks he ab- 
stained from his five o'clock morning sermon, because a 
slow and settled fever parched his mouth. Finding 
himself a little better, he resumed the practice, and 
hoped to hold on a little longer ; but, at the beginning 
of the year 1790, he writes, " I am now an old man, de- 



158 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

cayed from head to foot. My eyes are dim ; my right 
hand shakes much; my mouth is hot and dry every 
morning; I have a lingering fever almost every day; 
my motion is weak and slow. However, blessed be 
God ! I do not slack my labours : I can preach and write 
still." In the middle of the same year, he closed his 
cash account-book with the following words, written with 
a tremulous hand, so as to be scarcely legible : " Up to 
the age of eighty- six years I have kept my accounts 
exactly ; I will not attempt it any longer, being satisfied 
with the continual conviction, that I save all I can, and 
give all I can — that is, all I have." 

Upon the 28th of June, 1790, he thus writes, " This 
day I enter into my eighty- eighth year. For nearly 
eighty- six years, I found none of the infirmities of old 
age — my eyes did not wax dim, neither was my natural 
strength abated. But last August, I found almost a 
sudden change — my eyes were so dim, that no glasses 
would help me; my strength likewise quite forsook me, 
and probably will not return in this world. But I feel 
no pain from head to foot, only it seems nature is ex- 
hausted, and, humanly speaking, will sink more and 
more, till 

" The weary springs of life stand still at last." 

This, at length, was literally the case ; the death of 
Mr. Wesley, like that of his brother Charles, being one 
of those rare instances in which nature, drooping under 
the load of years, sinks by a gentle decay. 

Conscious that his end was approaching, he wrote, on 
the 18th of Feb., 1791, to his followers in America, giving 
them his last counsels. " See," said he, " that you never 
give place to one thought of separating from your brethren 
in Europe. Lose no opportunity of declaring to all men, 
that the Methodists are one people in all the world, and 
that it is their full determination so to continue." He 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 159 

expressed also a sense that his hour was almost come. 
" Those that desire to write," said he, " or say anything 
to me, have no time to lose ; time has shaken me by the 
hand, and death is not far behind." Thus he laboured 
on till the middle of February, continually praying, 
" Lord, let me not live to be useless." He preached as 
usual, in different places in London and its vicinity, 
generally meeting the society, after preaching in each 
place, and exhorting them to love as brethren, fear God, 
and honour the king, which he wished them to consider 
as his last advice. He then usually, if not invariably, 
concluded, with giving out that verse, 

" that, without a lingering groan, 
I may the welcome word receive ; 
My body with my charge lay down, 
And cease at once to work and live/ 7 

He proceeded in this way till the usual time of his 
leaving London approached, when, with a view to take 
his accustomed journey, through Ireland or Scotland, he 
sent his chaise and horses before him to Bristol, and took 
places for himself and his friend in the Bath coach. 
But his mind, with all its vigour, could no longer uphold 
his worn-out and sinking body. 

Thursday, February 17, 1791, he preached at Lam- 
beth ; but, on his return, seemed much indisposed, and 
said, he had taken cold. The next day, however, he read 
and wrote as usual; and in the evening preached at 
Chelsea, from " The king's business requires haste," — 
although with some difficulty, having a high degree of 
fever upon him. Indeed, he was obliged to stop once or 
twice, informing the people that his cold so affected his 
voice as to prevent his speaking without those necessary 
pauses. On Saturday he still persevered in his usual 
employments, though, to those about him, his complaints 
seemed evidently increasing. He dined at Islington, 



160 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and at dinner desired a friend to read to him four chap- 
ters out of the book of Job — namely, from the fourth to 
the seventh inclusive. On Sunday he rose early, accord- 
ing to custom, but quite unfit for any of his usual Sab- 
bath day's exercises. At seven o'clock he was obliged 
to lie down, and slept between three and four hours. 
When he awoke, he said, " I have not had such a com- 
fortable sleep this fortnight past." In the afternoon he 
lay down again, and slept an hour or two. Afterwards 
two of his own discourses on our Lord's Sermon on the 
Mount, were read to him, and in the evening he came 
down to supper. 

Monday the 21 st, he seemed much better ; and though 
his friends tried to dissuade him from it, he would keep 
an engagement, made some time before, to dine at 
Twickenham. In his way thither he called on Lady 
Mary Fitzgerald : the conversation was truly profitable, 
and well became a last visit. On Tuesday he went on 
with his usual work, preached in the evening at the 
chapel in the City-Road, and seemed much better than 
he had been for some days. On Wednesday he went to 
Leatherhead, and preached to a small company, on " Seek 
ye the Lord while he may be found ; call ye upon him 
while he is near." This proved to be his last sermon ; 
here ended the public labours of this great minister of 
Jesus Christ. On Thursday he paid a visit to Mr. 
Wolff's lovely family at Balaam, where he was cheerful, 
and seemed nearly as well as usual, till Friday, about 
breakfast time, when he grew very heavy. About 
eleven o'clock he returned home, extremely ill. His 
friends were struck with the manner of his getting out 
of the carriage, and still more with his apparent weak- 
ness when he went up stairs and sat down in his chair. 
He now desired to be left alone, and not to be interrupted 
by any one, for half an hour. When that time was ex- 
pired, some mulled wine was brought him, of which he 



SEC. II.J CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 161 

drank a little. In a few minutes he threw it up, and 
said, " I must lie down." His friends were now alarmed, 
and Dr. Whitehead was immediately sent for. On his 
entering the room, he said, in a cheerful voice, " Doctor, 
they are more afraid than hurt." Most of this day he 
lay in bed, had a quick pulse, with a considerable degree 
of fever and stupor. And Saturday, the 26th, he con- 
tinued in much the same state ; taking very little, either 
of medicine or nourishment. 

Sunday morning he seemed much better, got up, and 
took a cup of tea. Sitting in his chair, he looked quite 
cheerful, and repeated the latter part of the verse, in his 
brother Charles's Scripture Hymns, on Forsake me not 
ivhen my strength faileth, viz. 

" Till glad I lay this body down, 
Thy servant, Lord, attend ; 
And, ! my life of mercy crown 
With, a triumphant end." 

Soon after, in a most emphatic manner, he said, " Our 
friend Lazarus sleepeth." Exerting himself to converse 
with some friends, he was soon fatigued and obliged to 
lie down. After lying quiet some time, he looked up, 
and said, " Speak to me; I cannot speak." On which 
one of the company said, " Shall we pray with you, Sir?" 
He earnestly replied, " Yes." And, while they prayed, 
his whole soul seemed engaged with God for an answer, 
and his hearty amen showed that he perfectly under- 
stood what was said. About half an hour after, he said, 
" There is no need of more ; when at Bristol my words 
were, 

* I the chief of sinners am, 
But Jesus died for me/ wo 

At the Bristol Conference, in 1783, Mr. Wesley was taken very 
ill — neither he nor his friends thought he could recover. From 
the nature of his complaint, he supposed a spasm would seize his 
stomach, and, probably, occasion sudden death. Under these views 



162 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

One said, " Is this the present language of your heart, 
and do you now feel as you did then?" He replied, 
" Yes." When the same person repeated, 

" Bold I approach the' eternal throne, 
And claim the crown, through Christ, my own ;" 

and added, "'Tis enough. He our precious Immanuel 
has purchased, has promised all ;" he earnestly replied, 
"He is all ! He is all !" After this the fever was very 
high, and at times, affected his head; but even then, 
though his head was subject to a temporary derange- 
ment, bis heart seemed wholly engaged in his Master's 
work. In the evening he got up again, and while sitting 
in his chair, he said, " How necessary it is for every ones 
to be on the right foundation ! 

* I the chief of sinners am, 
But Jesus died for me V " 

Monday the 28th, his weakness increased. He slept 
most of the day, and spoke but little ; yet that little tes- 
tified how much his whole heart was taken up in the care 
of the societies, the glory of God, and the promotion of 
the things pertaining to that kingdom to which he was 
hastening. Once he said, in a low, but distinct manner, 
" There is no way into the holiest, but by the blood of 

of his situation, he said to Mr. Bradford, " I have been reflecting on 
my past life : I have been wandering up and down, between fifty 
and sixty years, endeavouring, in my poor way, to do a little good 
to my fellow-creatures ; and now it is probable, that there are but 
a few steps between me and death ; and what have I to trust to 
for salvation ? I can see nothing which I have done or suffered, 
that will bear looking at. I have no other plea than this, 

* I the chief of sinners am, 
But Jesus died for me.' " 

The sentiment here expressed, and his reference to it in his last 
sickness-, plainly shows how steadily he had persevered in the same 
views of the Gospel with which he set out to preach it. 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. • 163 

Jesus." He afterward inquired what the words were 
from which he had preached a little before at Hampstead. 
Being told they were these, " Ye know the grace of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your 
sakes he became poor," &c, he replied, "That is the 
foundation, the only foundation; there is no other." 
This day Dr. Whitehead desired he might be asked, if 
he would have any other physician called in to attend 
him ; but this he absolutely refused. It is remarkable 
that he suffered very little pain, never complaining of 
any during his illness, but once of a pain in his left 
breast. This was a restless night. Tuesday morning 
he sang two verses of a hymn ; then lying still, as if to 
recover strength, he called for pen and ink : but when 
they were brought he could not write. A person said, 
" Let me write for you, Sir ; tell me what you would 
say." He replied, " .Nothing, but that God is with us." 
In the forenoon he said, " I will get up." While they 
were preparing his clothes, he broke out in a manner, 
which, considering his extreme weakness, astonished all 
present, in singing 

" I ? 11 praise my Maker while I ; ve breath, 
And when my voice is lost in death, 

Praise shall employ my nobler powers : 
My days of praise shall ne'er be past, 
While life, and thought, and being last, 

Or immortality endures V 

Having got him into his chair, they observed him 
change for death. But he, regardless of his dying body, 
said with a weak voice, " Lord, thou givest strength to 
those that can speak, and to those who cannot. Speak, 
Lord, to all our hearts, and let them know that thou 
loosest tongues." He then sung, 

" To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
Who sweetly all agree, — " 

Here his voice failed. After gasping for breath, he said, 



164 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

" Now we have done all." He was then laid in the bed, 
from which he rose no more. After resting a little, he 
called to those who were with him, " to pray and praise." 
They kneeled down, and the room seemed to be filled 
with the Divine presence. A little after, he said, " Let 
me be buried in nothing but what is woollen, and let my 
corpse be carried in my coffin into the chapel." Then, 
as if done with all below, he again begged they would 
pray and praise. Several friends that were in the house 
being called up, they all kneeled down again to prayer, 
at which time his fervour of spirit was manifested to 
every one present. But in particular parts of the prayer, 
his whole soul seemed to be engaged in a manner which 
evidently showed how ardently he longed for the full ac- 
complishment of their united desires. And when one of 
the preachers was praying in a very expressive manner, 
that if God were about to take away their father to his 
eternal rest, he would be pleased to continue and increase 
his blessing upon the doctrine and discipline which he 
had long made his servant the mean of propagating and 
establishing in the world ; such a degree of fervour ac- 
companied his loud amen, as was every way expressive 
of his soul's being engaged in the answer of the petitions. 
On rising from their knees, he took hold of all their 
hands, and with the utmost placidness saluted them, and 
said, " Farewell, farewell." 

A little after, a person coming in, he strove to speak, 
but could not. Finding they could not understand 
him, he paused a little, and then, with all the remaining 
strength he had, cried out, " The best of all is, God is 
with us ;" and, soon after, lifting up his dying arm in 
token of victory, and raising his feeble voice with a holy 
triumph, not to be expressed, he again repeated the 
heart-reviving words, " The best of all is, God is with 
us." Being told that his brother's widow was come, he 
said, " He giveth his servants rest." He thanked her, 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. ■ 165 

as she pressed his hand, and affectionately endeavoured 
to kiss her. On wetting his lips, he said, !; We thank 
thee, Lord, for these and all thy mercies : bless the 
Church and king ; and grant us truth and peace, through 
Jesus Christ our Lord, forever and ever !" At another 
time he said, u He causeth his servants to lie down in 
peace/' Then pausing a little, he cried, " The clouds 
drop fatness !" and soon after. ' ; The Lord is with us, 
the God of Jacob is our refuge t" He then called those 
present to prayer ; and though he was greatly exhausted, 
he appeared still more fervent in spirit. These exer- 
tions were, however, too much for his feeble frame ; and 
most of the night following, though he often attempted 
to repeat the Psalm before mentioned, he could only, 
utter, 

u I ; U praise — I ; 11 praise." 

On Wednesday morning, the closing scene drew near. 
Mr. Bradford, his faithful friend, prayed with him, and 
the last words he was heard to articulate were, ,; Fare- 
well !"' A few minutes before ten, while several of his 
friends were kneeling around his bed, without a linger- 
ing groan, this man of God, this beloved pastor of thou- 
sands, entered into the joy of his Lord. 

He was in the eighty-eighth year of his age, and had 
been sixty-five years in the ministry. For fifty-two 
years, or upwards, he generally delivered two, frequently 
three or four sermons in a day. But calculating at two 
sermons a day, and allowing, as a writer of his life has 
done, fifty annually for extraordinary occasions, the 
whole number during this period will be forty thousand 
five hundred and sixty. To these might be added, an 
infinite number of exhortations to the societies after 
preaching, and in other occasional meetings at which he 
assisted. His death was an admirable close of so labori- 
ous and useful a life. 



166 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

At the desire of many of his friends his corpse was 
placed in the New Chapel, and remained there the day 
before his interment. His face during that time had a 
heavenly smile upon it, and a beauty which was admired 
by all that saw it. 

March the 9th, was the day appointed for his inter- 
ment. The preachers then in London requested that 
Dr. Whitehead should deliver the funeral discourse; 
and the executors afterward approved of the appoint- 
ment. The intention was to carry the corpse into the 
chapel, and place it in a raised situation before the pulpit 
during the service. But the crowds which came to see 
the body while it lay in the coffin, both in the private 
house, and especially in the chapel the day before his 
funeral, were so great, that his friends were apprehensive 
of a tumult, if they should proceed on the plan first in- 
tended. It was therefore resolved, the evening before, to 
bury him between five and six in the morning. Though 
the time of notice to his friends was short, and the design 
itself was spoken of with great caution, yet a considera- 
ble number of persons attended at that early hour. The 
late Rev. Mr. Richardson, who now lies with him in the 
same vault, read the funeral service in a manner that 
made it peculiarly affecting ; when he came to that part 
of it, " Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God to 
take unto himself the soul of our dear Brother" &c, he 
substituted, with the most tender emphasis, the epithet 
Father, instead of Brother, which had so powerful an 
effect on the congregation, that from silent tears, they 
seemed universally to burst out into loud weeping. 

Mr. Wesley left no other property behind him than 
the copyright and current editions of his works, and this 
he bequeathed to the use of the Connexion after his debts 
should have been paid. 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 167 



6. RICHARD WATSON. 

"This — only this subdues the fear of death; 
And what is this ? — Survey the wondrous cure ; 
And at each step, let higher wonder rise ! 
Pardon for infinite offence ! ° Cs ° ° * 
A pardon bought with blood !— with blood divine !" — Young. 

The Rev. Richard Watson was, during many years, one 
of the brightest ornaments of the Wesleyan Church. 
He defended the doctrines of the Gospel by his pen, 
was an active and laborious minister, and adorned by 
his life the doctrine of his Lord and Saviour. When 
his medical attendant had pronounced his case hopeless, 
Mr. Watson exclaimed, " Good is the word of the Lord ! 
Remember, this is my testimony." From this time, he 
betrayed no impatience at his sufferings. " I could have 
wished," he said, " to live a few years longer to finish 
some works of usefulness ; but the Lord can do without 
any of us. I have no wish either to live or to die ; but 
that the will of God may be done." When one of his 
family expressed a desire for his restoration, he said, 
" It is the anxiety of affection, without any basis of rea- 
son to rest upon." 

" Whilst in health," says the Rev. Dr. Bunting, " he 
was never remarkably communicative on subjects of 
personal religion; but now he became as simple and 
open as a child. He had never been accustomed to give 
vent to his feelings by tears, always restraining himself 
in the midst of intense emotion ; but he now gave very 
full vent to the feelings of his heart. Tears of humilia- 
tion, intermingled with sacred joy, flowed in copious 
streams from his eyes. In this state of mind, he often 
appeared to labour for language adequate to express his 
deep sense of humiliation. On one occasion, when 
visited by a venerable and respected brother minister, 



168 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

who remarked that it must have afforded him pleasure 
to state and defend the truth, to preach the Gospel to 
the edification of thousands, and especially to promote 
the cause of Christian missions, he said, * I thank God 
if I have at all helped to promote the doctrine and disci- 
pline of the Christian religion ; but,' added he, ' place no 
trust in this.' He then made some remarks on the mo- 
tives by which he had been guided in some particular 
points. Towards the evening of that day, he burst into 
tears, and addressing the persons attending him, said, 

' 1 hope I did not boast to Mr. this morning. I 

thought it right to say just what I did, but God forbid 
that I should boast;' and then he exclaimed, in the 
greatest agitation, '0 no ! I am a poor, vile sinner — a 
worm, and no man.' In remarking on the goodness of 
God in his early conversion, he observed, ' How great 
was God's mercy in taking me by his grace — in putting 
me into the ministry at so early a period — in some re- 
spects, a most obstinate and refractory sinner!' His 
favourite expression, when speaking of his unworthiness, 
was to call himself a worm. One night, moved by a 
sudden impulse as he lay on his bed, he said, 'lama 
worm — a poor, vile worm, not worthy to lift up its head, 
— but,' he added, with brightened features, ' this worm 
is permitted to crawl out of the earth into the garden of 
its Lord, and there to enjoy the flowers and fruits, if it 
can, which sparkle in the palace and ivory throne of the 
New Jerusalem — 

" I shall behold His face, 
I shall his love adore, 
And sing the wonders of his grace 
Forever more." 

There is doubt of everything but the great, deep, infinite 
mercy of God ; and that is sure.' 

" In speaking of the Divine attributes, his mind dwelt 
almost exclusively on that of mercy. The attention of 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 169 

his friends, or his medical attendants, and the smallest 
acts of kindness, drew forth expressions of gratitude, and 
he would exclaim, ; It is all of mercy !' The last vigor- 
ous remark he made was to one of his attendants, remind- 
ing him that the Lord had been gracious in raising him a 
little after a period of sleepless lethargy ; he adopted the 
usual word, and said, ' It is all of mercy !' He spoke of 
his ministry, and exclaimed again, ' It is all of mercy !' 
' And all that I can do in my circumstances,' said he, ' is 
to repose on the Divine mercy ; and it is the nature of 
that mercy to pity the infirmities and sufferings of its 
children.' His mind was relieved by that consideration, 
and on that mercy he relied with calm resignation. At 
another time, with great feeling, he remarked, ' There is 
no rest or satisfaction for the soul but in God — my God. 
I am permitted to call him my God. God, thou art 
my God, early will I seek thee : my soul thirsteth for 
thee, my flesh longeth for thee, in a dry and thirsty land 
where no water is.' 

"At another time, in a state of deep feeling, he said, 
'When shall my soul leave this tenement of clay, to join 
in the wide expanse of the skies, and rise to nobler joys 
and to see God V In a happy state of mind, he burst 
forth but a short time before he was deprived of the 
power of connected speech, and exclaimed, 'We shall 
see strange sights to-day ; not different, however, from 
what we might realize by faith : but it is not the glitter 
and glare, not the topaz and diamond ; no, it is God I 
want to see ; he is all and in all.' During a few of the 
last hours of his life, he sunk into a state of lethargy, 
appearing almost insensible. This rendered him nearly 
incapable of the use of speech ; no conversation could be 
held with him ; but at intervals he seemed to be engaged 
in devotional exercises." Richard Watson died June 
18th, 1833, aged fifty-two. 



170 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



7. REV. W. DAY. 

A relative once said to the late Rev. W. Day, of 
Bristol, " It is a comfort to you to see your children 
round you." 

"Yes," he answered, with an allusion to the occa- 
sional dimness of his vision, " it is. It would be more 
so if I could see them ; but I can only see one now and 
another then." 

" You can, however, see Jesus by the eye of faith." 

His countenance kindled with a smile of joy, and, 
clasping his hands, he exclaimed, " He is my great, my 
only object. my God ! my portion, my all ! Blessed 
be thy name, thou hast said unto me, * Thou art mine.' " 
Then, with much energy, he added, " The Bible is 
nothing to me — the Bible is nothing to me but as it 
reveals a covenant Jehovah, Father, Son, and Holy 
Ghost. There I see perfection. When I look at man 
— when I look at myself, I see nothing but vileness — a 
rent here, a chasm there. It would drive me to despair. 
when, when shall I behold Christ as he is, and cast 
myself at his feet ! He has offered me a pledge of this 
beyond all that imagination can conceive. I have seen 
him rising before me in all the majesty of the Godhead. 
The world has shown me its favours, and has taken 
them away again. I have enjoyed many tokens of the 
loving-kindness of God ; and I have at other times been 
stripped of what I most valued. But 0, my God, my 
Redeemer, thou hast never failed me !" Then stretch- 
ing out his hands to his family around his bed, he cried, 
" Lord, shine forth, shine forth in thy glory upon 
these dear ones! Thou wilt never leave them — thou 
wilt never forsake them." 

It was an affecting, a sublime scene. It was like a 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 171 

patriarch standing on the threshold of heaven, looking 
back to bless his family, and looking forward, earnestly 
longing to take his last step. 



8. MR. M'LAREN, OF EDINBURGH. 

"That sov'reign Plant, whose scions shoot 
With healing virtue, and immortal fruit, — 
The Tree of Life, beside the stream that laves 
The fields of Paradise with gladdening waves." 

When Mr. M'Laren was dying, Mr. Gustart, his asso- 
ciate pastor, paid him a visit, and inquired of him, 
" What are you now doing, my brother?" The strong 
and earnest response of the dying minister was, " I '11 
tell you what I am doing, brother ; I am gathering to- 
gether all my prayers, all my sermons, all my good 
deeds, all my ill deeds ; and I am going to throw them 
all overboard, and swim to glory on the single plank of 
free grace." 



9. DR. HENRY PECKWELL. 

" His spirit, with a bound, 
Burst its encunib'riiig clay ; 
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground, ' 
A blacken'd ruin lay." — Montgomery. 

The Rev. Dr. Henry Peckwell stepped into a dissect- 
ing room and touched one of the dead bodies, forgetting 
that he had just before accidentally cut his finger. He 
became diseased, and the doctors who were called in 
pronounced the accident fatal. At that time, worship 
was held at the Tabernacle, Moorfields, on a Friday 
evening. Conscious of his approaching death, the good 
man ascended the pulpit, and preached in so powerful 
a strain as to make many of his audience weep. At 



172 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

the conclusion, he told the audience that it was his fare- 
well sermon, — "not like the ordinary farewell sermons 
of the world, but more impressive, from the circum- 
stances, than any preached before. My hearers shall 
long bear it mind, when this frail earth is mouldering 
in its kindred dust." The congregation could not con- 
jecture his meaning ; but on the following Sabbath an 
unknown preacher ascended the pulpit and informed 
them that their pious minister had breathed his last on 
the preceding evening. 



10. BERNARD GILPIN. 

Bernard Gilpin, a man of exalted virtue, and distin- 
guished among his contemporaries by the title of " The 
Apostle of the North," was descended from a respect- 
able family in Westmoreland, and .born in the year 
1517. 

His attachment to the Roman Catholic religion, in 
which he had been educated, was, for some time, strong 
and decided. But an honest and ardent desire to dis- 
cover truth, and unprejudiced study of the Holy Scrip- 
tures, and frequent conferences with pious and learned 
men, produced, at length, a thorough persuasion of the 
truth of the Protestant reformed religion. This cause 
he steadily and zealously supported through the whole 
remaining course of his life. 

He at length accepted the rectory of Houghton-le- 
spring. This living was of considerable value ; but the 
duty of it was proportionably laborious. It was so ex- 
tensive that it contained not fewer than fourteen vil- 
lages. It had been much neglected; and in it there 
scarcely remained any traces of true Christianity. 
Gilpin was grieved to see the ignorance and vice which 
so greatly prevailed in the places under his care. But 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 173 

he did not despair of bringing into order a waste so 
miserably uncultivated; and, by resolution, diligence, 
prudence, and perseverance, he finally succeeded in 
producing an astonishing change, not only in the cha- 
racter and manners of his own parishioners, but of the 
savage inhabitants in other northern districts. On his 
arrival among them, the people crowded about him, and 
listened to his discourses with great attention, perceiv- 
ing him to be a teacher of a very different kind from 
those to whom they had hitherto been accustomed ; and 
by his truly pastoral and affectionate treatment of 
them, he quickly gained their confidence, respect, and 
attachment. 

Gilpin had not been long settled at Houghton before 
Bishop Tonstal was desirous of still further improving 
his fortune, by presenting him to a vacant prebend in 
the Cathedral of Durham. But resolving not to accept 
it, he told the bishop that, "by his bounty, he had 
already more wealth than he was afraid he could give a 
good account of. He begged, therefore, that he might 
not have an additional charge, but rather that his lord- 
ship would bestow this preferment on one by whom it 
was rnore wanted." In these perilous times, (the reign 
of the sanguinary Queen Mary,) his steady, though mild 
and temperate, adherence to the reformed religion, in- 
volved him in many dangers and difficulties, from which 
he was often happily extricated, under Divine Provi- 
dence, by the favour of Bishop Tonstal, and by his own 
judicious conduct. The malice of his enemies was 
probably increased by his unaffected piety and exem- 
plary life, which formed a striking satire on their negli- 
gence and irregularities. They determined, therefore, 
to remove, if possible, so disagreeable a contrast and so 
able a reformer. After many unsuccessful attempts to 
disgrace and destroy him, their hatred so far prevailed 
that they procured an order from the merciless Bonner, 



174 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

bishop of London, to have him arrested and brought to 
that city, where, the bishop declared, he should be at 
the stake in a fortnight. Gilpin was speedily apprized 
by his friends of the measures determined against him, 
and earnestly entreated to provide for his safety by 
withdrawing from the kingdom. But their persuasions 
w r ere ineffectual ; for having been long preparing him- 
self to suffer for the truth, he now determined not to 
decline it. He, therefore, with great composure, waited 
for the arrival of the bishop's messengers, after having 
ordered his servant to provide a long garment for him, 
in which he might go decently to the stake. In a few 
days he w T as apprehended ; but before he reached Lon- 
don, an account of Queen Mary's death was received, 
by which event he w T as delivered from any further pro- 
secution. Thus providentially rescued from his ene- 
mies, he returned to Houghton through crowds of people, 
who expressed the utmost joy, and rendered thanks to 
God for his deliverance. 

On the accession of Elizabeth, he was offered the 
bishopric of Carlisle ; but this he modestly and firmly 
declined to accept. Not long afterward, the provostship 
of Queen's College, Oxford, was tendered to him. This 
honour and emolument he likewise declined. He be- 
lieved that he could be more useful in his present 
charge at Houghton than elsewhere; and this was a 
consideration superior to every other in the mind of 
the pious and benevolent Gilpin. 

After the lapse of many years spent in the cheerful, 
but laborious discharge of duty, this pious man per- 
ceived, from his many infirmities, that his end was 
drawing near. He told his friends his apprehensions ; 
and spoke of his death with that happy composure 
which usually attends the conclusion of a good life. He 
was soon after confined to his chamber. His under- 
standing continued perfect to the last. Of the manner 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 175 

of his taking leave of the world, we have the following 
account : — 

A few days before his death, having ordered himself 
to be raised in his bed, he sent for the poor ; and beck- 
oning them to his bed-side, he told them he perceived 
that he was going out of the world. He trusted they 
would be his witnesses at the great day that he had 
endeavoured to do his duty among them ; and he prayed 
God to remember them after he was gone. He would 
not have them weep for him. If ever he had told them 
anything good, he would have them remember that in 
his stead. Above all things, he exhorted them to fear 
God, and keep his commandments ; telling them, if they 
would do this, they could never be left comfortless. 

His speech began to falter before he had finished his 
exhortations. The remaining hours of his life he spent 
in prayer, and in broken conversations with some select 
friends. He often mentioned the consolations of Chris- 
tianity ; declared that they were the only true ones, and 
that nothing else could bring a man peace at the last. 
He died in 1583, and in the sixty-sixth year of his age. 



11. HENRY MARTYN. 

"An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; 
Legions of angels can't confine me there!" — Young. 

It is truly said, that they live long " who live till life's 
great work is done." Such was the case with Henry 
Martyn : his years were few, and the years of his reli- 
gious life much fewer; yet in those few he laboured 
successfully for the glory of God, and grew fully ripe 
for eternal happiness. 

He was born in Cornwall, in 1781. In 1797 he went 
to the University of Cambridge ; but was at that time a 



176 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

stranger to real piety. Providentially, he possessed a 
pious sister, whose frequent addresses to him on reli- 
gion were not lost ; and on the unexpected death of his 
father, in 1799, such deep impressions were made on his 
heart as appear to have been never effaced. He now 
began to inquire for a better world; and became 
anxious that others should do the same. One instance 
of his success in reproving vice deserves notice. Going 
to visit the daughters of a person who lay in dying cir- 
cumstances, he found them apparently cheerful, and 
was thunderstruck to behold a gownsman, from one of 
the colleges, reading a play to them. He rebuked this 
person sharply, and the reproof was so much blessed 
that it proved the cause of a lasting change ; and Mr. 
Martyn afterward had the happiness of labouring in 
India with this very student. 

In 1805 he went out as a chaplain to India. There, 
besides attending to the duties of his station, he pro- 
duced a version of the New Testament in the Hin- 
doostanee language. He afterward visited Persia, for 
the sake of translating the same sacred volume into 
Persian ; and not long after this entered his eternal rest. 

When in India, he wrote in his journal : "I am hap- 
pier here in this remote land, where I hear so seldom 
of what happens in the world, than in England, where 
there are so many calls to look at the things that are 
seen. How sweet the retirement in which I live here ! 
The precious word, now my only study, by means of trans- 
lations ! I sometimes rejoice that I am not yet twenty- 
seven years of age, and that, unless God should order 
it otherwise, I may double the number in constant and 
successful labour. If not, God has many, many more 
instruments at command, and I shall not cease from my 
happiness, and scarcely from my work, by departing 
into another world. what shall separate us from the 
love of Christ ? neither death nor life, I am persuaded. 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 177 

let me feel my security, that I may be, as it were, 
already in heaven ; that I may do all my work as the 
angels do theirs ! and let me be ready for every 
work ! be ready to leave this delightful solitude or 
remain in it, to go out or go in, to stay or depart, just 
as the Lord shall appoint. Lord, let me have no will 
of my own !" 

Actuated by these feelings, he went forth to preach 
the Gospel to the heathen, and it was his fixed resolu- 
tion to live and die among them. When he left Eng- 
land, he left it wholly for Christ's sake, and he left it 
forever. 

Yet he felt the parting from all he loved : but he did 
not regret having resigned the world ; life he knew was 
but a short journey — a little day, and then, if faithful 
unto death, his gracious reward would begin. 

On his voyage he wrote in his journal, September 23 : 
— " We are just to the south of all Europe, and I bid 
adieu to it forever, without a wish of ever revisiting it, 
and still less with any desire of taking up my rest in the 
strange land to which I am going. Ah ! no, — farewell, 
perishing world ! ' For me to live ' shall be ' Christ.' I 
have nothing to do here but to labour as a stranger, and 
by secret prayer, and outward exertion, do as much as 
possible for the Church of Christ and my own soul, till 
my eyes close in death, and my soul w T ings its way to a 
brighter world. Strengthen me, God my Saviour, 
that whether living or dying, I may be thine !" 

When in India he deeply felt the misery of those who 
were perishing around him. On one occasion, when ill, 
he wrote: "I lay in tears, interceding for the unfortu- 
nate natives of this country, thinking with myself that 
the most despicable soodar of India was of as much 
value in the sight of God as the king of Great Britain." 

At another time he remarks : " My soul, much im- 
pressed with the unmeasurable importance of my work, 

8* 



178 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and the wickedness and cruelty of wasting a moment, 
when so many nations are, as it were, waiting till I do 
my work, felt eager for the morning to come again that 
I might resume my work." 

During his residence in Persia, he had various oppor- 
tunities of endeavouring to lead perishing men to the 
Source of real happiness. On one of these, by a short, 
but impressive, argument on the importance of religion, 
he brought to apparent seriousness a deistical Moham- 
medan, who amused himself with infidel delusions, 
worthy of Tom Paine or Hume. He said, " These 
things will do very well for the present, while reclining 
in gardens, and smoking caleans, but not for a dying 
hour. How many years of life remain ? You are about 
thirty ; perhaps thirty more remain. How swiftly have 
the last thirty passed ! how soon will the next thirty be 
gone ! and then we shall see. If you are right, I lose 
nothing; if I am right, you lose your soul." 

As he loved his Lord, so he was anxious for his glory. 
This holy zeal was remarkably displayed during his 
abode at Shiraz, in Persia. There he had to maintain 
the dignity of his Redeemer among learned Moham- 
medans, who treated him with contempt on this account. 
He observed, "How many times in the day have I 
occasion to repeat the words, — 

' If on iny face, for Thy dear name, 

Shame and reproaches be ; 
All hail reproach, and welcome shame, 
If thou remember me/ " 

In one of his reflections on January 1, 1807, he 
says — 

" Seven years have passed away since I was first 
called of God. Before the conclusion of another seven 
years how probable that these hands will have moulder- 
ed into dust ! But be it so ; my soul, through grace, 
hath received the assurance of eternal life ; and I see 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 179 

the days of rny pilgrimage shortening without a wish to 
add to their Bomber, Bur may I be stirred up to a 
further discharge of ray high and awful work ; and lay- 
ing aside, as much as may be, all carnal cares and stu- 
dies, may I give myself to this ■ one thing !' ' 

While in Persia he visited the ruins of Persepolis, 
and indulged those salutary reflections which impress 
the heart with the littleness of life and the nearness of 
eternity. He observes: "It was impossible not to re- 
collect that here Alexander and his Greeks passed and 
repassed — here they sat. and sung, and revelled; now 
all is silence — generation on generation lie mingled with 
the dust of their mouldering edifices." 

In his return, being near the river Araxes, he says, — 
" I went and sat down on the margin, near the bridge, 
where the water, falling over some fragments of the 
bridge under the arches, produced a roar, which, con- 
trasted with the stillness all around, had a grand effect. 
Here I thought again of the multitudes who had once 
pursued their labours and pleasures on its banks. 
Twenty- one centuries have passed away since they 
lived ; how short, in comparison, must be the remainder 
of my days ! What a momentary duration is the life 
of man! Labitur et Jabetur in omne volubilis cevum* 
may be affirmed of the river: but men pass away as 
soon as they begin to exist. Well, let the moments 
pass, — 

1 They '11 waff as sooner o'er 
This life's tempestuous sea, 
And land us on the peaceful shore 
Of bless'd eternity/ ;; 

Having completed his translation of the New Testa- 
ment into the Persian lano^iao-e, he visited the kino; in 
May, 1812, in order to present a copy to him. Upon 

° It glides on, and wave after wave will glide on forever. 



180 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

his coming into the presence of the king, two Moolahs 
attacked him with their arguments against the Law and 
the Gospel. The controversy was continued for an 
hour or two, when the vizier, joining in, said to Mr. 
Martyn, " You had better say, God is God, and Mo- 
hammed is the prophet of God." 

He replied, " God is God ;" but added, " and Jesus 
is the Son of God." 

They no sooner heard this than they all exclaimed, 
in anger and contempt, " He is neither born nor begets ;" 
and rose up as if they would have torn him in pieces. 

One of them said, " What will you say when your 
tongue is burnt out for blasphemy?" 

They treated his book with contempt, and he went 
back to his tent. 

His work in Persia being now completed, he designed 
to visit England, and, through great hardships, pursued 
his journey. The last words he penned in his journal 
show the desires of his soul : — 

" Oct. 6. — No horses being to be had, I had an unex- 
pected repose. I sat in the orchard, and thought, with 
sweet comfort and peace, of my God ; in solitude — my 
company, my friend, and comforter. when shall time 
give place to eternity ! When shall appear that new 
heaven and new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness ! 
There — there shall in no wise enter in anything that 
defileth : none of that wickedness that has made men 
worse than wild beasts — none of those corruptions that 
add still more to the miseries of mortality, shall be seen 
or heard of any more." 

Ten days after he breathed forth these aspirations, he 
entered the joy of his Lord. He died at Tocat, Oct. 16, 
1812, in his thirty-second year. 



SEC. II.1 CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 181 



12. REV. THOMAS SCOTT. 

" "When I tread the verge of Jordan, 
Bid my anxious fears subside !" 

The closing scenes in the life of this deeply pious, 
learned, and well-known commentator, are full of in- 
terest and instruction. His life was protracted for 
seventy-five years, and his active ministry nearly fifty. 
As this good man drew near the close of life, he was 
greatly distressed at the temporary withdrawal of the 
light of the Divine countenance. His biographer, an eye 
and ear witness, says : — 

" In the time of his darkness and gloom, he prayed 
without ceasing, and with inexpressible fervour. He 
seemed unconscious of any one being near him, and gave 
vent to the feelings of his mind without restraint. And 
! what holy feelings were they ; what spirituality, 
what hatred of sin, what humility, what simple faith in 
Christ, what zeal for God's glory, what submission ! 
Never could I hear him, without being reminded of 
Him, who ' being in an agony prayed the more earnestly/ 
and whose language was, ' My God, my God, why hast 
thou forsaken me V 1 1 think nothing/ he said, ' of my 
bodily pains — my soul is all. I trust all will end well — 
but it is a dreadful conflict. I hope — I fear — I tremble 
— I pray. Satan tries to be revenged on me, in this 
awful hour, for all that I have done against his kingdom 
through life. He longs to pluck me out of Christ's hand. 
Subdue the enemy, Lord ! Silence the accuser ! Bruise 
Satan under my feet shortly ! 

" Hide me, my Saviour, hide, 

Till the storm of life is past ; 
Safe into the haven guide, 

receive my soul at last. 
Other refuge have I none !" 



182 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

0, to enter eternity with one doubt on the mind! 
Eternity — Eternity — Eternity ! People talk of assu- 
rance not being attainable in this world, nor perhaps 
much to be desired. They and the devil agree on this 
point. what a thing sin is ! Who knoweth the power 
of his wrath ? If this be the way to heaven, what must 
the way to hell be ? " If the righteous scarcely be saved, 
where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear ?" ' 

" In the midst of his conflict he generally expressed 
hope of final victory, but thought he should die under a 
cloud. He accused himself of self-indulgence and slack- 
ness in prayer ; of having made his religious labours an 
excuse for shortness in private devotion. 

" His first clear consolation was after receiving the 
Lord's supper, on Thursday, March 22, 1821. He had 
previously observed : ' An undue stress is by some laid 
upon this ordinance, as administered to the sick, and I 
think others of us are in danger of undervaluing it.' 
Shortly after the service was concluded, he said, ' Now 
Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine 
eyes have seen thy salvation.' Through the remainder 
of the day, though much exhausted, and during the night, 
he continued in a very happy state of mind. 

" To his son-in-law, who came in the evening, he said : 
' I feel a composure which I did not expect last night ; 
I have not triumphant assurance, but something which 
is more calm and satisfactory. I bless God for it.' 
And then he repeated, in the most emphatic manner, 
the whole of the twelfth chapter of Isaiah : ' " Lord, I 
will praise thee ; though thou wast angry with me, thine 
anger is turned away, and thou comfortest me," &c. 
to realize the fulness of joy! to have done with 
temptation ! " They shall hunger no more, neither thirst 
any more ; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any 
heat ; for the Lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, 
shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 183 

of waters : and Grod shall wipe away all tears from their 
eyes. They are come out of great tribulation, and have 
washed their robes, and made them white in the blood 
of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of 
God." 

' Sin, my worst enemy before, 
Shall vex my eyes and ears no more ; 
My inward foes shall all be slain, 
Nor Satan break my peace again. 

" We know not what we shall be ; but we know, that 
when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall 
see Him as He is." ' He frequently repeated, perfect 
peace ! 

" In the night he had some refreshing sleep, and awoke 
in great calmness. ' This,' he said, ' is heaven begun ; I 
have done with darkness forever — forever. Satan is 
vanquished. Nothing now remains, but salvation with 
eternal glory — eternal glory.' 

" On Tuesday morning, March 27th, he appeared dy- 
ing, and suffered exquisitely. * 0,' he said, ' it is hard 
work. Death is a new acquaintance ; a terrible one, ex- 
cept as Christ giveth us the victory, and the assurance 
of it. My flesh and my heart seem as if they wanted to 
fail, and could not. Who can tell what that tie is which 
binds body and soul together ? How easily is it loosen- 
ed in some, what a wrench and tear is it in others! 
Lord, loosen it if it be thy will— -I hope it is not wrong 
to pray for a release. If it be, God forgive me ! Yet 
if it be thy will that I should wait for days and weeks, 
Thou art righteous !' 

" Through the whole of Tuesday afternoon he was 
calm, and talked delightfully. He seemed to unite the 
cheerfulness, clearness of thought, and force of argument 
of his former days, with the extraordinary tenderness, 
humility, meekness, and love, of his present situation. 
On his second son's entering the room, he said to him, 



184 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PARTI. 

1 Who am also an elder, and a witness of the sufferings 
of Christ, and also a partaker of the glory that shall be 
revealed ; feed the flock of God that is among you,' &c., 
(1 Pet. v, 1-4 ;) and proceeded to converse in a most in- 
teresting manner about his own past ministry. He had 
a blessed consciousness of having been faithful, which 
was a source of gratitude to him. 

"To his grandson: 'God bless you! I have often 
preached to you, and sometimes talked to you ; but I 
have prayed for you a hundred times more. Seek and 
serve God. Religion is all that is valuable. You may 
think it does little for me now ; but it is all. May you 
be a blessing to your parents, to your brothers and sis- 
ters ! You are the eldest ; should you outlive your father, 
be a father to the rest. I have always particularly wished 
you might be a minister of Christ : but this 1 must leave. 
God's will be done!' 

" One thing is not to be forgotten concerning these 
benedictions which he continued to pronounce upon his 
grandson, that, though he much longed that he should be 
a minister, he yet solemnly warned him not to take the 
sacred office upon him, unless he was conscious of a 
heart devoted to the work of it. ' Rather,' said he, 
' make forks and rakes, rather plough the ground, and 
thresh the corn, than be an indolent, ungodly clergy- 
man.' 

" Wednesday morning, March 28. He had slept a 
good deal, and was calm and cheerful, though in great 
suffering. ' This,' he said, ' is my last day. Still I 
have the last struggle to pass, and what that is, what 
that wrench is, who can tell me? Lord, give me pa- 
tience, fortitude, holy courage ! I have heard persons 
treat almost with ridicule the expression, Put " under- 
neath me the everlasting arms." But it is exactly 
what I want — " everlasting arms " to raise me up ; to be 
" strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 185 

man." I am in full possession of all my faculties ; I 
know I am dying ; I feel the immense, the infinite im- 
portance of the crisis : Lord Jesus, receive my spirit ! 
Thou art " all I want;" "None but Jesus can do help- 
less sinners good." Blessed be God, there is one Sa- 
viour, though but one in the whole universe. Had any 
other done what Christ has for us — raised us from such 
a deplorable, lost, wicked state — shed his blood for us — 
sent his Spirit to quicken us ; would he not be greatly 
affronted if we were to doubt his perfecting his own 
work ? And yet we are apt to doubt Christ's love. God 
forgive us that, with all the rest of our offences ! "He 
that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for 
us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all 
things?"'" 

In much the same state he continued till his death. 
His mind was clear to the last moment ; he had been 
peaceful and happy for several days, and in the end, with 
perfect composure and a heavenly smile playing upon 
his countenance, he sank down into the arms of death, 
and without a sigh or a struggle, without even a discom- 
posed feature, he sweetly slept in Jesus. 

Thus terminated the sufferings and trials of this emi- 
nent servant of Jesus, proving by his last conflict, that 
though the valley of death is frequently beset with ter- 
rors at its entrance, yet the victory remains certain to 
every child of God. Nature indeed shrinks from the 
hand of death, and the mind itself trembles at the 
thoughts of eternity ; but the rod and staff of Omnipo- 
tence yields courage and strength, and turns the eye 
undaunted on the dark valley through which lies the 
road to endless bliss. He died on Monday, April 16th, 
1821, in the seventy-fifth year of his age. 



186 



DEATH-BED SCENES. 



[PART I. 



13. RICHARD CECIL. 

" He taught us how to live ; and ! too high 
A price for knowledge, taught us how to die !" 

Mr. Cecil's mother laboured to impress his mind with 
Divine truth. She furnished him with Janeway's Token 
for Children, which at an early age much affected him. 
Afterward he broke through all the restraints of a pious 
education, and became almost an infidel. Yet his mo- 
ther's admonitions, which he affected to scorn, were not 
lost. They fixed themselves in his heart, and would 
draw tears from his eyes as he passed along the streets, 
from the impressions left on his mind. Lying awake 
one night, he contemplated his mother's case. "I see," 
said he, within himself, "two unquestionable facts. 
First, my mother is greatly afflicted in circumstances, 
body, and mind, and yet I see that she cheerfully bears 
up under all, by the support she derives from constantly 
retiring to her closet and her Bible. Secondly, that she 
has a secret spring of comfort of which I know nothing ; 
while 1, who give an unbounded loose to my appetites, 
and seek pleasure by every means, seldom or never find 
it. If, however, there is any such secret in religion, why 
may not I attain it as well as my mother ? 1 will im- 
mediately seek it of God." He now rose in bed and be- 
gan to pray, but was soon damped by recollecting how 
he had ridiculed the Saviour. He, however, persevered 
in inquiring for the way of life, and at length happily 
found it. 

When about twenty- eight years of age, he entered on 
the ministry of the Gospel. He laboured in various 
places, but the principal scene of his exertion was St. 
John's chapel, Bedford Row. There for many years he 
was employed in dispensing the word of life. "Faith," 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 187 

he observes, "is the master- spring of a minister. Hell 
is before me, and thousands of souls shut up there in 
everlasting agonies — Jesus Christ stands forth to save 
men from rushing into this bottomless abyss — He sends 
me to proclaim his ability and love ; I want no fourth 
idea ! — every fourth idea is contemptible ! — every fourth 
idea is a grand impertinence !" 

In the latter part of the year 1798, he was attacked 
by a severe illness. During its continuance he found 
the Saviour his only support. He said : " If God should 
restore me again to health, I have determined to study 
nothing but the Bible — all-important truth is there, and 
I feel that no comfort enters sick curtains from any other 
quarter. I have been too much occupied in preparing to 
live, and too little in living. I have read too much from 
curiosity, and for mental gratification. I was literary 
when I should have been active. We trifle too much. 
Let us do something for God. The man of God is a 
man of feeling and activity. I feel, and would urge with 
all possible strength on others, that Jesus Christ is our 
All in all^ 

On one occasion he said to a friend : " It has been a 
night of great pain, but it was a night appointed me by 
Jesus Christ, and sure it must be a good one that he ap- 
points ! Had I laid down my life for you, your good 
nights would have been my anxious care." At another 
time : " I have great peace — not a ruffled breeze, night 
nor day; and this is all grounded on the doctrine of 
Jesus Christ. Give up that and I should have no sleep 
to-night. All is pitch darkness without it — dark as a 
Socinian — dark as a moralist. There is no light but 
what Christ brings." 

To one who spoke of his illness, he said : " It is all 
Christ. I keep death in view. If God does not please 
to raise me up, he intends me better. I know whom I 
have believed ; I find everything but religion vanity. I 



188 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

am ready even on this sick bed to preach to preachers. 
1 ask myself, What is my hold and support — what will 
remain with me when everything else is washed away ? 
To recollect a promise of the Bible — this is substance. 
Nothing will do but the Bible." 

After this severe attack he in some measure recovered, 
and several years were added to his life. He again pur- 
sued his great work, and still experienced his heavenly 
Father's care. He often used to say: "I set out with 
nothing but dependence on God, resolving to do his 
work, and leaving all the rest to him. I know that he 
will take care and provide for me." 

A considerable time before his death, illness again re- 
moved him from the field of active labour, and in August, 
1810, he was called to his eternal rest. 

As he drew near to death, Jesus Christ was his only 
topic. His apprehensions of the work and glory of 
Christ, and of the unspeakable importance of a spiritual 
union with him, grew, if possible, more distinct. He 
spoke of his Saviour with the feeling and seriousness of 
a dying believer : — 

" I know myself to be a wretched and worthless sin- 
ner, having nothing in myself but poverty and sin. I 
know Jesus Christ to be a glorious and almighty Sa- 
viour. I see the full efficacy of his atonement and grace ; 
and I cast myself entirely on him, and wait at his foot- 
stool. I am aware that my diseased and broken mind 
makes me incapable of receiving consolation ; but I sub- 
mit myself wholly to the merciful and wise dispensations 
of God." 

He often repeated, with the martyr Lambert, " None 
but Christ — none but Christ;" and a short time before 
his death, he requested one of his family to write down 
for him in a book the following sentence: "None but 
Christ, none but Christ, said Lambert dying at the stake ; 
the same, in dying circumstances, with his whole heart, 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 189 

saith Richard Cecil." To this he affixed his signature, 
though, through infirmity, in a manner hardly legible. 

In his last hours he dictated a letter to his son, in the 
East, in which were the following lines : " I am only able 
now in a dying state to send my blessing and prayers 
for your welfare. I wish to say, that Christ is your all 
in time and eternity. I have been in a most affecting 
state by a paralytic stroke ; but Christ is all that can 
profit you or me — a whole volume would not contain 
more or so much. pray day and night for an interest 
in him ! And this is all I can say — it being more than 
having the Indies." 

Thus regarding the Lord Jesus Christ he lived, and 
thus he died. Mrs. Cecil, after his decease, observed, 
that they might say of him as he once said in a letter to 
a friend, after burying a pious member of his congrega- 
tion : " After I had put her into the grave the rest went 
away. I stood looking in: everybody had lamented 
and said, ' How sad ;' I, though 1 cannot now write for 
tears, looked in again, and said, * How well P " 



14. CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN. 

" The soul, reposing on assured relief, 
Feels herself happy amidst all her grief ; 
Forgets her labour as she toils along, 
Weeps tears of joy, and bursts into a song." 

Claudius Buchanan was born at Cambuslang, near 
Glasgow, March the 12th, 1766. By both his parents 
he appears to have been carefully trained, from his 
earliest years, in religious principles and habits. 

In his fourteenth year he appeared the subject of seri- 
ous religious impressions ; but this hopeful prospect soon 
vanished, in consequence of his associating with an irre- 
ligious companion, and he turned to folly and the world. 



190 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

At the age of seventeen he conceived the romantic 
design of making the tour of Europe on foot ; and near 
four years afterward actually entered on this wild but 
favourite plan. Here he acted a guilty part, by deceiv- 
ing his pious parents as to his motives and expectations 
in leaving Scotland. 

The way of transgressors is commonly hard. Long 
before he reached London, he was tired of his favourite 
project ; yet being too proud to return to his friends, and 
own his faults, he went forward to the metropolis ; where 
he at length arrived, with his spirits nearly exhausted by 
distress and poverty. Here he was soon reduced to the 
lowest extreme of wretchedness and want; and some- 
times had not even bread to eat ; but even then, though 
he saw his folly, he saw not his sin. 

In 1790, he was thoroughly awakened to a sense of his 
guiltiness by the faithfulness of a young friend, who took 
occasion to press home upon his conscience and heart 
the truths and claims of the Gospel. Soon after, he be- 
came acquainted with Mr. Newton, and under his friendly 
instructions and counsel learned the way of peace, and 
was gradually introduced into a state of "righteousness, 
and peace, and joy, in the Holy Ghost." He felt the 
powerful influence of the love of Christ, and resolved to 
live no longer to himself but " unto Him that died for 
him and rose again." 

He soon after informed his mother, at that time his 
sole surviving parent, of his proceedings and situation. 
The conclusion of his letter affectingly describes the 
misery of a sinful course, and the extent of the change 
which Divine grace had made in him. " The veil," says 
he, " which was between us is at length rent, and I am 
in peace ; for believe me, 1 have not, till now, enjoyed a 
day of peace since 1 left my father's house. I once 
thought I would rather suffer torture than betray my 
secret; but my 'sinews of iron' are become like those 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 191 

of a child. Nothing less than what I have suffered, 
could have softened so hard a heart as mine ; and not 
even that, unless accompanied by the power of God." 

His mother had almost begun to lose her fond hope of 
his becoming at length a follower of the Lamb ; and re- 
ceived with delight the account of his conversion. 

While preparing for the ministry, his feelings were 
thus expressed : — 

" I dare not tell you what I am, but I can tell you what 
1 pray for. 

" I pray that I may be content to be of no reputation 
among men — knowing that, if I am truly wise, I must be- 
come a fool amongst the ungodly ; that I may patiently 
submit to indignity and reproach for Christ's sake, and 
that my whole life may be devoted to his service ; that 
for this purpose I may diligently improve the talent 
committed to me, however little it may be, and that 
when I go forth into the ministry 1 may not seek self, 
but Christ — content to be unnoticed, dead to the censure 
or applause of men, alive to God and his concerns, and 
chiefly solicitous that my preaching may be powerful in 
awakening souls. 

" The summit of my ambition, if I know my own mind, 
is to be daily more conformed to Christ, to be enabled to 
follow that great sufferer, and to rejoice to be counted 
worthy to suffer shame for his sake. 

" I am equally ready to preach the Gospel in the next 
village or at the ends of the earth." 

Soon after leaving Cambridge Mr. Buchanan went 
out as a chaplain to India— which became the theatre of 
his most distinguished labours. During the administra- 
tion of the Marquis of Wellesley, religion was favoured, 
and the cause which lay near the heart of Buchanan was 
fostered under the protection of that distinguished noble- 
man, whom the real friends of religion should ever re- 
spect, for his attention to that cause which is dearer than 



f 



192 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

life to them. When, under his successor, religion was 
discouraged, and that favour granted to heathenism and 
Mohammedanism which was denied to Christianity, Bu- 
chanan stood firm as a rock in his opposition to the con- 
duct of an infidel court, and boldly, but respectfully, re- 
monstrated with the supreme government of India on 
the measures then pursued. 

In the month of August, 1805, he endured an alarm- 
ing illness, and conceived that his mortal course was 
drawing to its conclusion. His feelings and sentiments 
at that time displayed the powerful effect of the Gospel 
he had preached. A memorial of his illness was pre- 
served in the handwriting of his coadjutor, Mr. Brown, 
who watched over him with fraternal anxiety. 

" On the morning of the 22d, Mr. Brown, on enter- 
ing the chamber of his sick friend, found him still fixed 
in his opinion that he should die, and opening his 
spiritual state to another Christian friend. At this 
time he took a review of the way in which the Provi- 
dence of Grod had led him from his earliest years ; and 
gave his friends a brief sketch of his history. The ro- 
mantic project of his youth, his residence in London, 
his conversion to the faith and practice of a real Chris- 
tian, his career at Cambridge, his voyage to India, and 
his comparative banishment during the first three years 
of his residence in that country. At this critical period, 
he observed, his call by Lord Wellesley to the chaplaincy 
of the presidency, and the subsequent establishment of 
the college, had given him an important work to per- 
form ; that his preaching indeed [excellent as it was] 
had been unsatisfactory to himself, but that his spiritual 
labours and opportunities in college had often afforded 
him much comfort. 

" After praying earnestly for some time, he lay quite 
still, and then, with great tranquillity and satisfaction, 
said : * What a happy moment ! now I am resigned ; now 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 193 

I desire not to live. I am unworthy of this.' He then 
spoke of his hope, and said, that he could only be saved 
by grace. 

" Alluding to his intended journey to Malabar, which 
his illness had prevented, he said : ' I am now about to 
travel not an earthly journey, but still "to unknown re- 
gions of the Gospel." I shall now pass over the heads 
of old men labouring usefully for Christ, and at this 
early period be advanced to see what " eye hath not 
seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart 
of man to conceive," and behold discoveries of the glory 
of Christ, " God manifest in the flesh," who hath come to 
us and kindly taken us by the hand. He will lift us out 
of the deep waters, and set us at his own right hand. I 
once saw not the things I now see; I knew not the 
Gospel. Now I pray that the little I have known may 
be perfected, and that God would complete his work on 
my soul.' " 

After recovery, the remembrance of this illness, and 
the impressions which an anticipated death-bed had 
made on his mind, w T ere ever afterward cherished and 
retained, and tended to quicken him in his Christian 
course, and to render him more zealous and unwearied 
in the service of his heavenly Master. 

In 1808 he returned to England, where his various 
publications excited considerable concern for the promo- 
tion of religion in the Bast. 

As the time of his departure to eternal rest drew near, 
he appears to have risen more and more above this 
world. On this subject one of his relations said: " The 
last time that he visited us, which was in his way to 
Cambridge, I thought him eminently dead to the world, 
and, as it were, absorbed in heavenly things. His deep 
domestic afflictions seemed to have been greatly sancti- 
fied to him. He appeared to watch for every oppor- 
tunity of seasoning our ordinary discourse with the salt 



194 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

% of religion. When we were speaking of Carey's Atlas, 
he took occasion to refer in a solemn and affecting man- 
ner to the map of the heavenly city, which St. John has 
given us in the Revelation. When I spoke of Bona- 
parte's late astonishing overthrow, he heard it with com- 
parative indifference, and soon adverted to the impor- 
tance of the conversion of the soul to God, as involving 
consequences of greater moment than the fall of empe- 
rors and the revolutions of the greatest states." 

In the latter part of his life he was employed in assist- 
ing to provide an edition of the Syriac Testament, while 
his own mind looked forward to the country which that 
holy book discovers. He wrote, in 1814: "I walk in 
the meadows, by the side of the river Lee, and endeav- 
our to meditate on things spiritual and eternal ; there 
are few days in which I do not think of Mary, now 
among the blessed. I envy her happy lot, but yet I 
have just strength to pray that I may be enabled to serve 
God in my generation." 

The time of his own departure was now fast approach- 
ing. He had been employed in attending to the revi* 
sion of the Syriac New Testament, and had advanced, 
on the day preceeding his death, to the 20th chapter of 
the Acts of the Apostles, in which the apostle expresses 
his conviction of his final separation from his friends. 

He had some previous indisposition, and the follow- 
ing night, without struggle or convulsion, after a short 
warning, he departed to the rest of glorified spirits, in 
the forty-ninth year of his age, February 9, 1815. 
" Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 195 



15. REV. R. HALL. 

"With lifted eyes, 
And aspect luminous, as with the light 
Of heaven's op'ning gate, he strove to join 
His voice with theirs, and breathe out all he felt; 
But in the effort, feeble nature sank 
Exhausted ; and, while every voice was hush'd, 
His flutt'ring spirit, struggling to get free, 
Rose like a sky-lark singing up to heaven." — Wilcox. 

The death-bed of the Rev. R. Hall, of Leicester, and 
afterwards of Bristol, was in full accordance with his 
simple piety, and with that real humility which has so 
often characterized true genius. When he first an- 
nounced his apprehension that he should never again 
minister among his people, he immediately added: 
"But I am in God's hands, and I rejoice that I am. 
I am God's creature, at his disposal, for life or death; 
and that is a great mercy." Again : " I fear pain more 
than death. If I could die easily, I think I would go 
rather than stay ; for I have seen enough of this world, 
and have an humble hope." 

When under one of his paroxysms, Mr. Hall said : 
" ' Wherefore doth a living man complain, — a man for 
the punishment of his sins Y I have not complained, — 
have I, sir? — and I will not complain." "His suffer- 
ings," he remarked, "were great; but what," he added, 
"are my sufferings to the sufferings of Christ? His 
sufferings were infinitely greater; his sufferings were 
complicated. God has been very merciful to me — very 
merciful. I am a poor creature — an unworthy crea- 
ture; but God has been very kind, very merciful." 
Mr. Hall had, during his whole life, suffered at inter- 
vals the most excruciating pain ; and, in his last hours, 
he again compared his own sufferings with those of his 



196 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

Saviour — observing how light his were in the contrast, 
and saying that " though he had endured as much or 
more than fell to the lot of most men, yet all had been 
mercy." This comparison seemed a favourite one with 
him; and he observed "that a contemplation of the 
sufferings of Christ was the best antidote against im- 
patience under any troubles we might experience," 
recommending the subject to others as the antidote to 
distress or death. 

"I was summoned," says his medical attendant, "to 
behold the last agonizing scene of this great and extra- 
ordinary man. His difficulty of breathing had suddenly 
increased to a dreadful and final paroxysm. . . . Mrs. 
Hall, observing a fixation of the eyes, and an unusual 
expression on his countenance, and indeed in his whole 
manner, became alarmed by the sudden impression that 
he was dying, and exclaimed, in great agitation, ' This 
cannot be dying!' When he replied, 'It is death — it 
is death — death ! 0, the sufferings of this body !' Mrs. 
Hall then asked him, ■ But are you comfortable in your 
mind V He immediately answered, ' Very comfortable — 
very comfortable ;' and exclaimed, ' Come, Lord Jesus, 
come !' He then hesitated, as if incapable of bringing 
out the last word ; and one of his daughters, involun- 
tarily as it were, anticipated him by saying, 'quickly;' 
on which her departing father gave her a look expres- 
sive of the most complacent delight." 



SEC. II. J CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 197 



16. REV. JOHN ELY. 

"Trust thou in Hirn who overcame the grave; 
"Who holds in captive ward 
The powers of death. Heed not the monster grim, 
Nor fear to go through death to Him." — Condee. 

The late Rev. John Ely, of Leeds, was a Christian of 
energetic piety, and a pastor of commanding influence. 
All the powers of a cultivated mind, and of a constitu- 
tion naturally most active, were freely devoted to his 
Master's service. Charming in his family; beloved 
beyond an ordinary degree in every pastoral relation — 
the faithful reprover, the zealous advocate, the untiring 
public servant, "the eloquent orator;" great as was the 
space he filled in the public eye, every succeeding year 
seemed only to enlarge it. But his bow was strained 
too tightly, and his constitution, overwrought with ex- 
cessive service, suddenly gave way, amidst the deep 
lamentations of his personal connexions, his attached 
Church, and the friends of the cause of God in general. 
In the commencement of his illness, his mind was, for 
a time, overclouded, and "the sorrows of death com- 
passed him." His beloved friend, the Rev. Dr. Hamil- 
ton — who, after writing his Memoir, himself lay down 
to die — endeavoured to reason him out of his apprehen- 
sions, and after some difficulty succeeded. "Refer- 
ring, in the presence of Mr. John Wade and Mr. Edward 
Baines, to the cloud which had passed over him, and 
giving to each of them one of his hands, he said, ' It is 
on the fulness, freeness, and sufficiency of Christ, in his 
person and offices, that I repose my only hope of salva- 
tion. This is the doctrine I have preached, and in this 
1 now find my support. ..." The time of my depart- 
ure is at hand: I have fought a good fight. I have 



198 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

finished my course, I have kept the faith : henceforth 
there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which 
the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that 
day : and not to me only, but unto all them also that 
love his appearing." ' Now only were heard from his 
dying lips utterances of calm and assured peace. He 
'rejoiced,' he 'triumphed in Christ,' he 'gloried in the 
cross.' He felt his foundation. He knew his course. 
He abided by it. 

" A friend spoke to him of his usefulness, — ' Not unto 
me, not unto me, but to God be all the glory. I look 
upon my past life, early cast a fatherless boy upon the 
providence of God; I look within, at motives, and I 
find that all is defective — all needs the cleansing blood 
of Christ.' 

" The world was now fast receding to him — those who 
had visited him withdrew, sorrowing that they should 
see his face no more. To a few of us, later and more 
mournful duties were assigned. We awaited the ebbing 
out of life. . . . Being asked whether he was able still 
to look to Christ as the ground of his confidence, he 
distinctly said, 'I am.' On Saturday morning, at a 
quarter to three o'clock, he sighed out his spirit." 

The holy servant of God had done his work. Like 
Dr. Payson, whose death-bed is an eminently beautiful 
specimen of its kind, he died in character — the pastor 
was apparent in his latest thoughts. 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 199 



17. REV. DR. HAMILTON. 

"Isle of the ev'ning skies, cloud- vision 'd land, 
Wherein the good meet in the' heavenly fold, 
And drink of endless joys at God's right hand." — Williams. 

Most of the preceding sketch is extracted from the Rev. 
Dr. Hamilton's " Posthumous Works of the late Rev. 
John Ely, with an Introductory Memoir." The ink of 
that writing was scarcely dry before the author was 
called to pass through a similar scene. A notice of 
his own bearing, in the crisis, will not be inappro- 
priate : — 

"During his whole illness, amidst intense pain and 
oppressive languor, he had experienced - the peace of 
God which passeth all understanding,' and a heavenly 
enjoyment arising from a sense of Divine love, which 
he himself described as amounting to * transport.' No 
impatience ruffled the calm, thankful, and humbled 
frame of his mind. When informed by his medical 
men, after their consultation on Sunday night, that his 
end was. near, he exclaimed, 'That is the best tidings 
you could have brought me.' He calmly summoned his 
family and friends ; he set his house in order ; he saw 
his deacons, and many other friends, and spoke to them 
all in the strain of a Christian hero standing on the 
brink of eternity. He said that he had taught his 
people how to live, and now it became him to teach 
them how to die. A combined dignity and tenderness 
characterized his manner during the last day of his life. 
His entire hope was in the atoning blood of the Sa- 
viour. 

"When a friend, who had co-operated with him on 
many public occasions, stood by his bedside twelve 
hours before his departure, and asked, 'Do you hold 



200 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

all your great principles clear and firm to the last?' 
the eye of the dying man kindled and opened wide, 
while he said, with extraordinary emphasis, ' yes, my 
principles ! if those principles fail, everything fails. I 
have always relied upon principle.' The look which 
accompanied this declaration was never to be forgotten. 
It was the last leaping flame of the expiring lamp. 
After this, weakness so much prevailed, that the great 
mind, unhinged, scarcely retained coherent thought 
unless when directly appealed to. The drowsiness of 
death each hour gained upon the vigorous intellect, till 
at length the mortal part sank down in death, and the 
immortal sprang to 

* The bosom of his Father and his God/ " 



18. REV. DAVID SIMPSON. 

" Like a shadow thrown 
Softly and lightly from a passing cloud, 
Death fell upon him." — Woedswoeth. 

David Simpson was born October 12, 1745, in the 
county of York, England. To his name the highest 
titles of earthly distinction can add no importance. 
The character he maintained in the world as a Chris- 
tian, his usefulness in the Church of God as a minister, 
and his labours as an author, rendered him a burning 
and shining light while living, and will perpetuate his 
memory now he is numbered with the dead. 

While pursuing his studies as a candidate for the 
ministry, on one occasion he visited the Rev. T. Lind- 
sey. This good man, learning tha/t the young student 
was pursuing his studies too much in the spirit of the 
times, without any knowledge of experimental religion, 
and in entire neglect of the Holy Bible, expostulated 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 201 

with him in the most earnest and affectionate manner. 
The expostulations of his friend came with effectual 
power to his mind. A decisive revolution took place 
in his sentiments and feelings, which determined 
the character of his future studies, and issued in a 
life of eminent usefulness to the cause of evangelical 
religion. He felt the criminality of his former indif- 
ference and inattention to the Divine writings, and was 
filled with corresponding remorse. The awful concerns 
of eternity so powerfully impressed his mind, that all 
other concerns dwindled into insignificance, and were 
almost wholly forgotten. Till the memorable day when 
it pleased God thus to illuminate his benighted under- 
standing, this candidate for the ministry had no Bible ! 
The book of God had no place in his library. How- 
ever, he now purchased a quarto Bible, with marginal 
references, and devoted himself to the study of it with 
full purpose of heart. From this time, Biblical know- 
ledge became the supreme object of his ambition and 
delight ; he pursued it with that degree of avidity which 
proved the deep sense he entertained of its importance 
to the work before him; and few have excelled him, 
either in the extent of his attainments or in the useful 
application of sacred literature. At first, indeed, as he 
afterward acknowledged, he was rather ashamed that 
his new Bible should be seen by his companions, lest 
he should incur the imputation of Methodism. But the 
glories he discovered in the doctrines of it, soon raised 
him above the fear of reproach, and inspired him with 
unshaken confidence and courage. In full assurance of 
the truth of the Gospel, and of his personal acceptance 
with God, he soon became settled and happy in mind, 
and longed for the period when he should proclaim to 
others the salvation he had obtained himself. 

Having completed his academical course, he entered 
upon his ministerial career, buoyed up with the delight- 

9* 



202 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

ful thought of publishing the Gospel to a ruined world. 
But, without detailing the various events of his life, we 
shall hasten to its " final scene/' 

A few days before his own dissolution he was called 
to a severe trial in the death of his wife. She had 
almost unceasingly watched over the sick-bed of a 
daughter for five months ; and soon after the death of 
her daughter, she, too, was laid upon a bed of sickness 
and death. 

Mr. Simpson himself, not many days after, was 
taken ill, and complained of a hectic cough, accom- 
panied with a slow fever, which, daily increasing, at 
length brought him to the house appointed for all 
living. But he was not unprepared for the event. 
All his affairs had been settled and wound up by 
the predisposition of a gracious Providence. The 
paralytic affections, with which he had been for some 
time afflicted, now returned so frequently, and had 
so much impaired his health, that, as he himself 
expressed it, his work as a minister appeared to be 
done. As a writer, he had just finished his last in- 
tended publication. He had brought to a close the 
numerous executorships in which he had been engaged, 
with only one exception of inconsiderable moment. His 
younger daughter had been just removed to a better 
world, his elder daughter had shortly before been mar- 
ried, and his son was happily fixed in a situation very 
congenial to his wishes. 

But in other respects his situation was affecting in 
the extreme. Mrs. Simpson lay in a helpless and dan- 
gerous condition in an adjoining room, while he was 
unable to afford her the least consolation by his pre- 
sence. He had, nevertheless, the satisfaction of hearing 
that, as she approached her last hour, her confidence in 
God increased; and, finally, that she closed a useful 
and exemplary life, rejoicing in the God of her salvation. 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 203 

At this painful juncture, he felt acutely; but his expres- 
sions evidenced the most perfect submission to the will 
of God. The religion which he had so many years 
zealously and successfully propagated, was his support. 
He said, " All is well — all will be well. These dispen- 
sations of God are right and just. 1 have every reason 
to praise him." After he had taken finally to his bed, 
he was quite calm and happy, excepting that now and 
then he discovered some anxiety for Mrs. Simpson. 
•-■ God," said he, " is going to close up the scene at once, 
and end our lives and our labours together. It is an 
awful providence; but it is the will of God." 

The next day he desired a friend to read to him, 
saying, " I want some comfortable portion from the 
blessed Scriptures; all human supports now fail me. 
Read some comfortable portion." The text was then 
repeated to him, " When my flesh and my heart fail 
me, God is the strength of my heart, and my portion 
forever." He said, " That, and other comfortable pas- 
sages, frequently occur to my mind, and support me." 
He afterward said, " I consider all my eternal concerns 
as settled. All my dependence rests upon the great 
atonement. I have committed all my concerns into the 
hands of my Redeemer." He then called to the person 
who attended him : " Peter," said he, " tell the people I 
am not dying as a man without hope ;" and expressed 
his strong assurance of the happiness that awaited him, 
and a desire to depart. In the evening he said, " This 
is a very serious dispensation. It appears severe — 
very severe ; first the shepherdess is taken away, and 
then the shepherd, and both as by one stroke. But I 
am perfectly satisfied respecting it; and I know that 
this light affliction, which is but for a moment, shall 
work out for me a far more exceeding and eternal weight 
of glory." 

His fever continued to increase ? and his recovery be- 



204 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

came extremely doubtful. Every one but himself was, 
beyond expression, anxious for his life. Prayer-meet- 
ings were appointed, and numerously attended. Many 
strong cries and tears were offered up ; but the decree 
was gone forth. The supplications of the flock could 
not prevail for the recovery of the pastor. The ap- 
proach of an enemy, which every one around him 
dreaded, he hailed with composure and joy. One day, 
after a severe fit of coughing, he said to his attendant, 
" The way seems hard ; but it is the way the children 
of God all go, and I do not wish to be exempted from 
it. I know that my Redeemer liveth. 1 feel him pre- 
cious. He supports me under all. that I were able 
to express all I feel!" The doctor coming in soon 
afterward, asked him how he was. He replied, " Partly 
here and partly elsewhere." Another day, he said to 
the person who attended him, " How awful a thing it is 
for a man to be brought to his dying bed, and to have 
no hope beyond the grave! It is truly awful — but, 
blessed be God, this is not my case." 

On Tuesday morning, March 19, he gave his most 
affectionate blessing to his son. "I hope," said he, 
" the Lord will bless you when I am gone. I trust he 
will; and I commend you to the word of his grace, 
which is able to build you up, and to give you an in- 
heritance among all them which are sanctified. The 
Lord bless you — the Lord bless you !" 

As his strength declined apace, he was soon unfit to 
see any of his friends but his immediate attendants, who 
had now given up all hope of his recovery. The vio- 
lence of the fever acting on his enfeebled system, had 
left only the ruins of what he had been ; but they were 
the ruins of a noble mind. He spoke much of the glo- 
ries of heaven, and the happiness of separate spirits ; 
of their robes of righteousness, and their palms of vic- 
tory; then, breathing his ardent wishes for the happiness 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 205 

of all who were present, he added, " Pardon, peace, and 
everlasting felicity, are desirable things." At length 
the thread of life was spun out, and, after a day of 
apparent suffering, on Saturday, the 24th of March, 
1799, he fell asleep in Jesus, a little after midnight, and 
spent his Sabbath in the regions of bliss. Thus, after 
an active and laborious life, of which twenty- six years 
were spent in the town of Macclesfield, this eminent 
servant of Christ finished his course, and went to re- 
ceive his reward. 



19. DR. WILBUR FISK. 

" Whence this "brave bound o'er limits fixed to man? 
His God sustains him in his final hour ! 
We gaze ; we weep ; mix tears of grief and joy ! 
Amazement strikes ! devotion bursts to flame ! 
Christians adore ! and infidels believe !" — Youstg. 

This eminent servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, was 
cut off in the height of his usefulness. He entered the 
ministry in 1818, being then twenty-six years of age. 
He soon became distinguished for his soundness as a 
divine, and for his eloquence and success as a preacher. 
In 1830 he was elected the first president of the Wes- 
leyan University, which post he occupied till his death. 
In this sphere his noble talents found full scope for their 
exercise, and he became one of the most popular as well 
as most successful educators of youth. His constitution, 
naturally frail and with a strong tendency to pulmonary 
disease, soon began to give out under the excessive cares 
and labours to which he was subject in his new situation; 
and in the fall of 1838, it became apparent that he could 
not hold out much longer. His last sermon was preached 
in a sitting posture at a watch-meeting in the church in 
Middletown at the close of this year. His text — " Few 



206 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and evil have the days of the years of my life been, and 
have not attained unto the days of the years of the life 
of my fathers in the days of their pilgrimage" — was 
beautifully appropriate; and his discourse upon life, 
death, and immortality was eloquent and affecting. 

After a medical consultation had come to an unfa- 
vourable decision in his case, some one inquired how the 
prospect of death appeared. He immediately replied, 
" Death has no terror to me ; but I have not that open 
vision of heaven I could desire. Pray for me that the 
prospect before me may brighten. I feel that my life 
has been a series of imperfections, and there is nothing 
I can rest my hopes upon but the merits of Christ." 
His biographer says, that the succession of scenes which 
took place after this in his dying chamber, were in the 
highest degree instructive and elevating. It was an al- 
most uninterrupted exhibition of moral sublimity. His 
sufferings were extreme. His respiration was exceed- 
ingly difficult and attended with paroxysms, during which 
it appeared as though every breath would be his last. 
Most that he said during this period was gasped out 
word by word, and often syllable by syllable. At one 
time, after he had been speaking of rest in heaven, he 
exclaimed, " Ah, what is rest to me, that I indulge antici- 
pations of it, while there are so many unconverted in the 
world, going down to eternal woe ? I see much to be 
done : but any active mind can do it ; and the work of 
God is in his own hands. He can do without me. 
What am I, or my father's house, that God should have 
honoured me to share in the ministry of the Gospel ? I 
bless him that he has made me the humble instrument 
of doing anything — the least thing — for him. It is all 
of grace. Boasting is excluded. The glory is all his, 
the shame all mine. 1 want a score of years more to do 
anything like what a man ought to do in the course of 
his life." 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 207 

At another time, comparing the little he had done 
with his anticipations of a place in heaven, he said, "I 
shall be a star of small magnitude, but it is a wonder 
that I shall get to heaven at all. It is because love 
works miracles, that such a feeble, sinful worm may be 
saved by grace. 0, the mercy of God, to put such 
comeliness on such a worm as I ! I am an unprofitable 
servant. How little have I done of what I might have 
done !" 

Thus, " having no confidence in the flesh," all his hope 
of salvation rested on the atonement of the Lamb. 
" What a blessed state to be in," he observed, " to be 
anything God pleases. The will of God appears un- 
speakably beautiful to me ; but, alas ! I fail of fulfilling 
it in a great many ways. But, for all this, I have thrown 
myself on the mercy of God in Christ Jesus. 0, yes ! 
I feel that my soul is centred in the love of God in 
Christ Jesus." Thus, again : " If I have been instru- 
mental in a little good, I thank God for it. I am an un- 
profitable servant. All my hope is in Christ." 

Once only did he experience any peculiar temptation 
or mental conflict. In the early part of his illness, he 
remarked that " the enemy was thrusting sore " at him, 
and immediately said to the Rev. Horace Bartlett, " If 
you have any faith, pray." When the prayer was closed, 
he expressed his deliverance from the gathering cloud, 
and from that time nothing seemed to obstruct his view 
of his Saviour and the better world. 

His faith in the truths of Christianity never wavered. 
When asked if he still believed the doctrines which he 
had preached to others, he replied, with emphasis, 
"Yes; they are God's truths, and will bear the light of 
eternity," 

Sunday, the 10th of February, was a day of uncom- 
mon interest and solemnity. There was not the least 
prospect of his recovery, so that it was not thought 



208 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

necessary to restrain him from conversing ; and yet his 
strength v/as not so far exhausted as to prevent the free 
play of his mind and feelings. The scene in his cham- 
ber was transcendently elevating. In the morning he 
asked Mrs. Fisk what day it was. On ascertaining, he 
observed, " This would be a good day to die." 

" Perhaps," said Mrs. Fisk, " the Lord will take you 
to his rest this day." 

" Then I can worship," was his answer, " with the Sab- 
bath-keeping band in heaven ; but I cannot here." 

On being told that he always loved the Sabbath, 
"Yes," he replied; "and though it was a day of toil to 
me, yet I loved my work. To me the Sabbath has been 
an emblem of that promised rest. 0, that rest is sweet ! 
It is glorious !" 

He then beckoned Martha (an adopted daughter) to 
him, saying, "Let us pray together;" and, throwing an 
arm around each of them as they knelt before him, he 
offered up a prayer, gasping it out word by word, which 
seemed the very language of the spiritual world. It 
was deep, pathetic, powerful, sublime. Then, as they 
arose from their knees, he said, " Vain human reasoners 
often tell us that the soul and the body will go down to- 
gether to the dust, because the spirit is depressed when 
the body is ; but it is not true. These clogs of earth 
have often retarded the operations of my mind, and been 
as so many barriers to its activity. But I now feel a 
strength of soul and an energy of mind, which this body, 
though afflicted and pained, cannot impair. 

" The soul has an energy of its own; and so far from 
my body pressing my soul down to the dust, I feel as if 
my soul had almost power to raise the body upward and 
bear it away ; and it will at last, by the power of God, ef- 
fectually draw it to heaven, for its attractions are thither- 
ward." Then, turning to Mrs. Fisk, he said, " Think 
not, when you see this poor feeble body stretched 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 209 

in death, that that is your husband. no ! your hus- 
band will have escaped, free and liberated from every 
clog ! He will have new plumed his glad wings, and 
soared away through the ethereal regions to that celes- 
tial city of light and love ! What ! talk of burying your 
husband! No, never. Your husband cannot be buried! 
he will be in heaven. His body may be ; and let it go 
and mingle with its mother earth : why should you la- 
ment ? And yet I love this body, notwithstanding it 
has so often been a hinderance to the aspirations of my 
mind ; for it has been an old companion of mine. It has 
cost me much care and pain, its tendency being con- 
tinually to decay ; and though it may lie long in the grave 
it shall be raised, and I shall see it again ; for I hope to 
be united with it, but with none of its infirmities, with 
none of its moral deformities. Yes, every particle of 
this dust shall be raised and changed, in the twinkling 
of an eye, on the morning of the resurrection. Then it 
will be freed from all its infirmities. It will have no 
lame limbs, no weak lungs. It will be refined from all 
its gross particles. It will be buoyant and ethereal, 
glorious and immortal ! It will be perfect, for it will be 
fashioned like unto Christ's most glorious body, and 
united with the soul forever !" 

At a later period of his illness, on Mrs. Fisk express- 
ing her grief, he said, " 1 fear you do not give me up. 
0, give me up to God. Our tie will not be sundered ; 
it will only be strengthened by a purer hope. God will 
be your husband ; rely on him in simple faith, and all 
shail be well." 

At another time he said, " Our parting will not be 
long. Time seems to me like a mere point. Eternity 
swallows up all." .... " Imagination's utmost 
stretch cannot measure eternity. 0, my dear, build 
your hopes on nothing but Jesus, and him crucified! 
The doctrines of the cross only have efficacy to raise you 



210 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

to heaven, where 1 trust we shall soon meet. 0, then 
shall we be in possession of those beauties which charm 
the angels, and bind them to the throne of God." 

The students desired an interview with their dying 
president, which was granted. Taking each by the hand, 
he gave them his dying counsel and bade them farewell. 
The impression on their minds was very deep. One of 
them, in a letter to another, who was absent, says, " 0, 
what a scene was that ! I may forget the name of my 
father, and know not the mother who bore me, as soon 
as will the memory of that day pass from me." 

At one time, after a fruitless effort to lie down, he said, 
" I have always thought I should have a lingering sick- 
ness, but an easy death. I would like to have my bed 
my dying pillow, but my Saviour died on the cross." 
He then repeated the stanza, commencing, 



" How bitter that oup," 



and ending, 



9" 



" Did Jesus thus suffer, and shall /repine? 

At another time, when nature seemed exhausted and 
life was fast ebbing out, as he was lifted from the bed 
to his chair, he sighed forth, " From the chair to the 
throne I" 

Thus he continued, gradually sinking into uncon- 
sciousness, from which it became increasingly difficult 
to arouse him; nevertheless, when aroused, his mind 
seemed perfectly clear. On the 20th, when articulation 
was rapidly failing him, a friend said to him, "You 
suffer a great deal of distress, sir, from fatigue and ex- 
haustion ; but it must be over soon, and how sweet is 
rest to a weary man ! There is a place ' where the 
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at 
rest.' " He responded distinctly, " Bless God for that !" 
And on the 21st, when he was still further sunk into 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 211 

coma, the same friend coming into the room, said, " I 
have come to see you again, sir; do you know me?" 
Pressing his hand, he said in a whisper, " Yes ; glorious 
hope!" After this, when Mrs. Fisk took his hand and 
inquired if he knew her, he returned the pressure, say- 
ing, " Yes, love ; yes." These, we believe, were the last 
words he uttered. He lingered on our mortal shores 
until the next day, when, about ten o'clock in the fore- 
noon, his redeemed and now disenthralled spirit took its 
flight to its kindred skies, to mingle with the Church 
of the first-born, and join the anthems of the celestial 
choir. 



20. REV. S. B. BANGS. 

" The festal morn, my God, is come, 
That calls me to thy hallow'd dome." — Zwingee. 

This young and devoted minister was graduated from 
the University of the city of New- York, in 1843, being 
then twenty years of age. The following year he was 
licensed to preach, and at the ensuing session of the 
New- York Annual Conference he was admitted on trial 
in the travelling connexion of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church. 

During the second year of his ministry, he was com- 
pelled, on account of ill health, to relinquish his charge 
and return to his father's. His disease proved to be a 
bronchial consumption. His mother, in*a letter to a 
Christian friend,* gives the following account of the 
closing scenes of his life: — 

" After his physicians had given him up, I said to 
him, ' I fear you will not stay long with us.' His coun- 
tenance brightened ; ' All right,' said he, ' ask father to 
pray.' After prayer he took each of the family in turn 

° Rev. D. Smith, author of Anecdotes of the Christian Ministry. 



212 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

by the hand, giving each a kiss and his dying charge. 
Then raising his feeble hands he shouted, ' Glory, glory, 
glory to God !' He then sank away as though dead. 
His father remarked, ' He has gone, with glory on his 
lips.' But he revived, and said, ' I am not dead.' Of 
the scene which followed, my dear brother, I can give 
you but a very imperfect description. It did seem as 
though the Lord of hosts came as near as mortals could 
bear. By this time the room was nearly full of visitors. 
He exclaimed, ' My sins are all forgiven ; I am washed 
white, made pure in the blood of Jesus. Not a doubt, 
not a cloud. All well — more than well. Praise the 
Lord, I am going home.' He then gave out — 

* thou God of my salvation, 
My Redeemer from all sin/ 

It was sung. When they came to the fourth verse, 

* Angels now are hovering round us/ 

it seemed as though his spirit would fly away. He 
looked out at the window : ' The sun,' said he, ' is set- 
ting, mine is rising.' Then, with a look of heavenly de- 
light, he gazed upon his hands, where the blood was al- 
ready ceasing to circulate. ' I go from this bed to a 
crown,' cried he, with his right arm pointing upwards ; 
' farewell ;' laid his hands upon his breast, gasped, and 
expired. * 

" I had thought, if he died I should die with him ; but 
there was noticing like death about it ; the room seemed 
filled with the glory of God. I yet feel those comfort- 
ing influences the Spirit was pleased to give me, during 
those last three hours of his life." 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 213 



21. JOHN FLETCHER. 

" Is that his death-bed where the Christian lies ? 
No ! 'tis not his. 'Tis death itself there dies." — Coleeidge. 

Among those distinguished followers of the Lamb who 
have shone brightest in the Church below, it is perhaps 
impossible to fix on one more distinguished for piety 
than the subject of the following narrative. 

He was born in Switzerland, in 1729, and soon dis- 
played a peculiarly pious disposition. But notwith- 
standing all that was amiable in his character and de- 
portment, he felt the infinite necessity of an inward 
change. 

Conviction made way for unfeigned repentance, and 
repentance laid a solid foundation for Christian piety. 
His sorrow for sin was succeeded by a consciousness of 
the Almighty's favour, and the pangs of remorse gave 
way to the joys of remission. Believing on Jesus, as 
the Scripture hath said, he found in him a well of con- 
solation springing up into everlasting life. All his wan- 
derings were, at once, happily terminated, his doubts 
were removed, his tears were dried up, and he began to 
rejoice in hope of the glory of God. His conversion 
was not imaginary, but real. It not only influenced his 
sentiments, but extended to his conduct. 

From this period of his life, he became truly exem- 
plary for Christian piety. He walked cheerfully, as 
well as valiantly, in the ways of God. He followed 
Jesus ; and became a faithful preacher of the Gospel, at 
Madeley. 

Some time before the beginning of his last sickness, 
he was deeply impressed with the nearness of eternity. 

A few days before his dissolution, he appeared to 
have reached that desirable point, where the last raptu- 



214 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

rous discoveries are made to the souls of dying saints. 
Roused, as it were, with the shouts of angels, and kindled 
into rapture with visions of glory, he broke into a song 
of holy triumph, which began and ended with the praise 
of God's unfathomable love. He laboured to declare the 
secret manifestations he enjoyed, but his sensations were 
too powerful for utterance, and, after looking inexpres- 
sible things, he contented himself with calling upon all 
around him to celebrate and shout out that adorable love 
which can never be fully comprehended or adequately 
expressed. This triumphant frame of mind was not a 
transient feeling, but a state that he continued to enjoy 
with little or no discernible interruption to the moment 
of his death. While he possessed the power of speech, 
he spoke as one whose lips had been touched with a live 
coal from the altar ; and when deprived of that power 
his countenance discovered that he was sweetly engaged 
in the contemplation of eternal things. 

His last public service was affecting beyond descrip- 
tion. He opened the reading service with apparent 
strength ; but before he had proceeded far in it, his 
countenance changed, his speech began to falter, and it 
was with the utmost difficulty that he could keep himself 
from fainting. Every eye was rivetted upon him, deep 
solicitude was painted on every face, and confused mur- 
murs of distress ran through the whole congregation. 
In the midst of this affecting scene, Mrs. Fletcher was 
seen pressing through the crowd, and earnestly entreat- 
ing her dying husband no longer to attempt what ap- 
peared to be utterly impracticable. But he, as though 
conscious that he was engaged in his last public work, 
mildly refused to be entreated. There was something 
in his appearance and manner that gave his word an ir- 
resistible influence upon this solemn occasion. 

" After sermon he walked up to the communion table, 
uttering these words, 'I am going to throw myself under 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 215 

the wings of the cherubim, before the mercy- seat.' Here 
the same distressing scene was renewed with additional 
solemnity. The people were deeply affected, while they 
beheld him offering up the last languid remains of a life 
that had been lavishly spent in their service. Groans 
and tears were on every side. In going through this 
last part of his duty, he was exhausted again and again ; 
but his spiritual vigour triumphed over his bodily weak- 
ness. After several times sinking upon the sacramental 
table, he still resumed his sacred work, and cheerfully 
distributed, with his dying hand, the love-memorials of 
his dying Lord. In the course of this concluding office, 
which he performed by means of the most astonishing 
exertions, he gave out several verses of hymns, and de- 
livered many affectionate exhortations to his people, 
calling upon them, at intervals, to celebrate the mercy 
of God in short songs of adoration and praise. And 
now, having struggled through a service of near four 
hours' continuance, he was supported, with blessings in 
his mouth, from the sacred table to his chamber, where 
he lay for some time in a swoon, and from whence he 
never walked into the world again. 

" After this, he dropped into a sleep for some time, 
and on waking, said with a smile to Mrs. Fletcher, 
1 JNow, my dear, thou seest I am no worse for doing the 
Lord's work. He never fails me when I trust in Him.' 
On Monday and Tuesday we (she adds) had a little 
paradise together. He lay on a couch in the study ; and 
though often changing posture, was sweetly pleasant, and 
frequently slept a good while together. When he was 
awake, he delighted in hearing me read hymns and trea- 
tises on faith and love. He was used often to repeat, 
' We are to seek a perfect conformity to the will of God ; 
and leave him to give us pleasure or pain, as it seemeth 
Him good.' 

" On Wednesday, he told me he had received such a 



216 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

manifestation of the full meaning of those words, God is 
love, as he could never be able to express. ' It fills my 
heart,' said he, ' every moment. God is love ! Shout, 
shout aloud ! But it seems as if I could not speak much 
longer. Let us fix on a sign between ourselves. Now,' 
said he, (tapping me twice with his finger,) * I mean, 
God is love.' 

" On Tuesday his speech began to fail. To his friendly 
doctor he said, ' sir, you take much thought for my 
body ; permit me to take thought for your soul !' When 
I could scarcely understand anything he said, I spoke 
these words, God is love. Instantly, as if all his powers 
w T ere awakened, he broke out in a rapture, * God is 
love ! love ! love ! for that gust of praise ! I want to 
sound !' 

" On Saturday in the afternoon, one of his friends said 
to him, * Do you think the Lord will raise you up ?' He 
strove to answer, and could just pronounce, ' Raise me 

up in the resurr ' meaning in the resurrection. To 

another who asked the same question, he said, ' I leave 
it all to God.' 

"As night drew on, I perceived him dying very fast. 
His fingers could hardly make the sign, which he scarcely 
ever forgot ; and his speech seemed quite gone. I said, 
My dear creature, I ask not for myself; I know thy 
soul; but for the sake of others, if Jesus be very present 
with thee lift up thy right hand. Immediately he did 
so. If the prospect of glory sweetly open before thee, 
repeat the sign. He instantly raised it again, and in 
half a minute a second time. He then threw it up, as 
if he would reach the top of the bed. After this his 
hands moved no more." 

While their pastor was breathing out his soul into the 
hands of a faithful Creator, his people were offering up 
their joint supplications on his behalf in the house of 
God. The whole village wore an air of consternation 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 217 

and sadness, and not one joyful song was heard among 
all its inhabitants : hasty messengers were passing to 
and fro with anxious inquiries and confused reports ; 
and the members of every family sat together in silence 
that day, awaiting, with trembling expectation, the issue 
of every hour. After the conclusion of evening service, 
several of the poor, who came from distant parts, and 
who were usually entertained under Mr. Fletcher's roof, 
still lingered about the house, and seemed unable to tear 
themselves away from the place, without a sight of their 
expiring pastor. Secretly informed of their desire, Mr. 
Gilpin obtained them the permission they wished. And 
the door of the chamber being set open, immediately be- 
fore which Mr. Fletcher was sitting upright in his bed, 
with the curtains undrawn, unaltered in his usual vene- 
rable appearance, they slowly moved one by one along 
the gallery, severally pausing as they passed by the door, 
and casting a look of mingled supplication and anguish. 
It was, indeed, an affecting sight, to behold these un- 
feigned mourners successively presenting themselves be- 
fore the bed of their dying benefactor, with an inexpres- 
sible eagerness in their looks, and then dragging them- 
selves away from his presence with a distressing con- 
sciousness that they should see his face no more. 

" Now the hour approached, that was," says a friend, 
"to put a solemn termination to our hopes and fears. 
His weakness very perceptibly increased, but his counte- 
nance continued unaltered to the last. If there was any 
visible change in his feelings, he appeared more at ease, 
and more sweetly composed, as the moment of his dis- 
mission drew near. Our eyes were rivetted upon him 
in awful expectation. But, whatever we had felt before, 
no murmuring thought was suffered, at this interesting 
period, to darken the glories of so illustrious a scene. 
All was silence, when the last angelic messenger sud- 
denly arrived, and performed his important commission 

10 



218 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

with so much stillness and secrecy, that it was impossi- 
ble to determine the exact moment of its completion. 
Mrs. Fletcher was kneeling by the side of her departing 
husband; one who had attended him with uncommon 
assiduity, during the last stages of his distemper, sat at 
his head ; while I sorrowfully waited near his feet. Un- 
certain whether or not he was totally separated from us, 
we pressed nearer, and hung over his bed in the attitude 
of listening attention, — his lips had ceased to move, and 
his head was gently sinking upon his bosom, — we 
stretched out our hands ; but his warfare was accom- 
plished, and the happy spirit had taken its everlasting 
flight." 



22. DR. ISAAC WATTS. 

"One army of the living God, 
To his command we bow ; 
Part of the host have cross'd the flood, 
And part are crossing now.' 7 — C. Wesley. 

Isaac Watts, a learned and eminent Dissenting minis- 
ter, was born at Southampton, in the year 1674, of 
parents who were distinguished by their piety and 
virtue. He possessed uncommon genius, and gave 
early proofs of it. He received a very liberal education, 
which was rendered highly beneficial to him by his own 
unwearied efforts to improve himself. After the most 
serious deliberation, he determined to devote his life to 
the ministry, of the importance of which office he had 
a deep and awful sense. He laboured very diligently 
to promote the instruction and happiness of the people 
under his care ; and, by his Christian conduct and 
amiable disposition, greatly endeared himself to them. 

Soon after he had undertaken the pastoral office, his 
health sustained a severe shock by a painful and dan- 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 219 

gerous illness, from which he recovered very slowly. 
But in the year 1712, he was afflicted with a violent 
fever that entirely broke his constitution, and left such 
weakness upon his nerves as continued with him, in 
some measure, to the day of his death. 

The virtue of this good man eminently appeared, in 
the happy state of his mind, under great pains and 
weakness of body, and in the improvement which he 
derived from them. Of those seasons of affliction, he 
says, with a truly elevated mind and thankful heart : — 
"I am not afraid to let the world know, that amidst the 
sinkings of life and nature, Christianity and the Gospel 
are my support. Amidst all the violence of my dis- 
temper, and the tiresome months of it, I thank (rod I 
never lost sight of reason or religion, though sometimes 
1 had much difficulty to preserve the machine of animal 
nature in such order as regularly to exercise either the 
man or the Christian." 

Two or three years before his decease the active and 
sprightly powers of his nature gradually failed ; yet his 
trust in God, through Jesus the Mediator, remained 
unshaken to the last. He was heard to say, "I bless 
God I can lie down with comfort at night, not being 
solicitous whether I awake in this world or another." 
And again: "I should be glad to read more; yet not 
in order to be further confirmed in the truth of the 
Christian religion, or in the truth of its promises ; for I 
believe them enough to venture an eternity upon them." 

When he was almost worn out, and broken down by 
his infirmities, he said, in conversation w T ith a friend, 
" I remember an aged minister used to observe, that 
' the most learned and knowing Christians, when they 
come to die, have only the same plain promises of the 
Gospel for their support as the common and unlearned;' 
and so I find it. It is the plain promises of the Gospel 
that are my support ; and, I bless God, they are plain 



220 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

promises, that do not require much labour and pains to 
understand them." 

At times, when he found his spirit tending to impa- 
tience, and ready to complain that he could only lead a 
mere animal life, he would check himself thus : " The 
business of a Christian is to bear the will of God, as 
well as to do it. If I were in health, I ought to be 
doing it ; and now it is my duty to bear it. The best 
thing in obedience, is a regard to the will of God ; and 
the way to that is, to have our inclinations and aversions 
as much mortified as we can." 

With so calm and peaceful a mind, so blessed and 
lively a hope, did the resigned servant of Christ wait 
for his Master's summons. He quietly expired in the 
seventy-fifth year of his age. 



23. REV. CHARLES WESLEY. 

"Life's labour done, as sinks the clay, — 
Light from its load the spirit flies, 
While heaven and earth combine to say, — 

How blest the righteous when he dies!" — Bakbauld. 

" The time now began rapidly to approach," says his 
biographer, " when Mr. Charles Wesley perceived that 
he also must die. His removal into the world of spirits 
was not an event that came upon him unawares. To 
prepare for it had been the leading business of the greater 
part of his life. He expected it therefore, not with 
alarm, but with hope and desire. His treasure and his 
heart were already in heaven; and the abiding con- 
sciousness which he had of his title to the future in- 
heritance, resulting from his filial relation to God, and 
of his meetness for it, through the sanctifying power of 
the Holy Ghost, filled him with adoring thankfulness. 
Deeply was he sensible that he possessed no proper 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 221 

merit in the sight of God ; and he knew that he needed 
none, according to the tenor of the evangelical cove- 
nant. Hence, his self-abasement was profound; his 
reliance upon the sacrifice and intercession of Christ, 
entire ; and his hope of glory was that of a sinner, who 
knew that he was both justified and sanctified by grace, 
and looked for eternal life as a gift to be gratuitously 
bestowed upon a believing penitent." 

His physician, Dr. Whitehead, says, — " I visited him 
several times in his last sickness ; and his body was 
indeed reduced to the most extreme state of weakness. 
He possessed that state of mind which he had been 
always pleased to see in others — unaffected humility, 
and holy resignation to the will of God. He had no 
transports of joy, but solid hope and unshaken confi- 
dence in Christ, which kept his mind in perfect peace.' ' 

The decree, however, was gone forth, and no means 
could avail for the preservation of his life. While he 
remained in this state of extreme feebleness, having 
been silent and quiet for some time, he called Mrs. 
Wesley to him, and requested her to write the follow- 
ing lines at his dictation : — 

In age and feebleness extreme, 
Who shall a sinful worm redeem ? 
Jesus, my only hope thou art, 
Strength of my failing flesh and heart ; 
could I catch a smile from thee, 
And drop into eternity ! 

For fifty years Christ, as the Redeemer of men, had 
been the subject of his effective ministry, and of his 
loftiest songs ; and he may be said to have died with a 
hymn to Christ upon his lips. He lingered till the 
29th of March, 1788, when he yielded up his spirit into 
the hands of his God and Saviour, at the advanced age 
of seventy-nine years and three months. 



222 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



24. THE VENERABLE BEDE. 

" For this poor form 
That vests me round, I give it to destruction, 
As gladly as the storm-beat traveller, 
Who, having reach'd his destined place of shelter, 
Drops at the door his mantle's cumbrous weight." — Baillie. 

Bede, surnamed the " Venerable" was born about the 
year 673, in the neighbourhood of Weremouth, in the 
bishopric of Durham. Losing both his parents at the 
age of seven years, he was, by his relations, placed in 
the monastery of Weremouth. He was educated there 
with much strictness; and it appears that, from his 
youth, he was devoted to the service of religion. He 
was ordained deacon in the nineteenth, and presbyter 
in the thirtieth, year of his age. 

He applied himself entirely to the study of the Holy 
Scriptures, the instruction of disciples, the offices of 
public worship, and the composition of religious and 
literary works. He wrote on all the branches of know- 
ledge then cultivated in Europe. In Greek and Hebrew 
he attained a skill which was very uncommon in that 
barbarous age; and, by his instructions and example, 
he formed many scholars. He made all his attainments 
subservient to devotion. Sensible that it is by Divine 
grace, rather than by our natural powers or by learning, 
that the most profitable knowledge of the Scriptures is 
to be acquired, he united with his studies regular prayer 
to God, that he would bless and sanctify them. 

Perhaps no person of his time acquired so distin- 
guished and widely- extended a reputation as Bede, — a 
reputation, too, entirely founded on the worth of his 
character and the extent of his learning. The Roman 
Pontiff respected him so highly that he gave him a cor- 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 223 

dial invitation to the metropolis of the Church; but 
this he thought proper to decline. In the eyes of Bede, 
the great world had no charms. 

Of his numerous and important writings, the greatest 
and most popular was his " English Ecclesiastical His- 
tory." All the knowledge which we have of the early 
age of Christianity in Great Britain is derived from 
this production. King Alfred so highly esteemed the 
work that he translated it from the original Latin into 
the Saxon language, and by this means increased its 
celebrity. The various merits of Bede acquire addi- 
tional lustre from the general ignorance and corruptions 
of the time in which he lived. Notwithstanding this 
disadvantage, he appears to have been a man of eminent 
virtue, and to have possessed the happy association of 
learning with modesty, of devotion with liberality, and 
high reputation in the Church with humility and mode- 
ration. 

In the last sickness of this pious and learned man he 
was afflicted with a difficulty of breathing, which con- 
tinued about two weeks. His mind was, however, se- 
rene and cheerful; his affections were heavenly; and 
amidst all his infirmities, he continued daily to instruct 
his disciples. At this period, a great part of the night 
was spent in prayer and thanksgiving, and the first 
employment of the morning was to ruminate on the 
Scriptures, and make supplication to God. 

Amidst his bodily weakness his mind was still so 
active that he employed himself in writing on religious 
subjects. His translation of the Gospel of St. John 
was not completed till the day of his death. When, at 
last, he perceived that his end was drawing near, he 
met the solemn event with great composure and satis- 
faction. :t If my Maker please," said he, " who formed 
me out of nothing, I am willing to leave the world, and 
go to him. My soul desires to see Christ, my King, 



224 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

in his beauty." He then, with pious elevation of mind, 
sung, " Glory to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy 
Spirit," and expired with such tranquillity and de- 
votion, as greatly affected all who saw and heard him. 



25. REV. CHARLES SIMEON. 

" Stronger by weakness, wiser men become 
As they draw near to their eternal home ; 
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, 
Who stand upon the threshold of the new." — Waller. 

The Rev. Charles Simeon, of Cambridge, fulfilled a 
course marked by adherence to truths well called evan- 
gelical, while the position he occupied as fellow of King's 
College, Cambridge, and as a popular preacher in that 
town, contributed to invest him with a most enlarged 
influence, which he employed for good among the mem- 
bers of the university and the future clergymen of the 
Church of England. During his whole life, in storm 
and in sunshine, he remained a true and faithful fol- 
lower of the Lord Christ, while all the words and actions 
of a long and singularly-successful course were animated 
by one object — the desire to glorify Christ. 

His health had been almost always singularly good. 
In the month of September, 1836, he took cold, and was 
soon after, at the age of seventy- eight, laid upon his 
death-bed. In answer to an inquiry whether he were 
supported by Divine consolations, Mr. Simeon said, ." I 
never felt so ill before; I conceive my present state 
cannot last long; but here I lie waiting for the issue 
without a fear — without a doubt — and without a wish." 
On a question being asked, " What had been lately pass- 
ing in his mind, and of what he was at that time more 
particularly thinking?" he replied, in the most animated 
manner, "I do not think now — I am enjoying." He 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 225 

also described his perfect acquiescence in the will of 
God, saying, with energy, " He cannot do anything 
against my will." " Whether I am to have a little less 
suffering, or a little more," he said on another occasion, 
" it matters not one farthing. All is right and well, and 
just as it should be ; I am in a dear Father's hands — 
all is secure. When I look to Him I see nothing but 
faithfulness, and immutability, and truth ; and I have 
not a doubt or a fear, but the sweetest peace — I cannot 
hate more peace. But if I look another way — to the 
poor creature — 0, then, there is nothing — nothing, 
nothing, (pausing,) but what is to be abhorred and 
mourned over." 

" As his end drew near, he broke out, ' It is said, " 
death, where is thy sting?"' Then, looking at us, as 
we stood round his bed, he asked, in his own peculiarly 
impressive manner, ' Do you see any sting here ?' 

" We answered, ' No, indeed, it is all taken away.' 

" He then said, ' Does not this prove that my prin- 
ciples were not founded on fancies or enthusiasm, but 
that there is a reality in them ? and I find them suffi- 
cient to support me in death.' 

" Thus departed a laborious servant of Christ, entering 
into rest at the very moment that the bell of St. Mary's 
was tolling for the university sermon which he himself 
was to have preached, November 13, 1836." 



26. MATTHEW HENRY. 

The last words of Matthew Henry were : — " You have 
been used to take notice of the sayings of dying men : 
this is mine — That a life spent in the service of God, 
and communion with him, is the most comfortable and 
pleasant life that any one can live in the present world." 

10* 



226 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



27. REV. A. M. TOPLADY. 

" How sweet the hour of closing day, 

When all is peaceful and serene ; 
And when the sun, with cloudless ray, 

Sheds mellow lustre o'er the scene : 
Such is the Christian's parting hour, 

So peacefully he sinks to rest ; 
When faith, endued from heaven with power, 

Sustains and cheers his languid breast." 

Mr. Toplady was born at Farnham, in Surry, Nov. 
4, 1740. In early life he became a follower of the Sa- 
viour. He exercised his ministry at Blagdon, in Somer- 
setshire ; then at Broad- Hembury, in Devonshire ; and 
finally in London. A slow consumption removed him 
to eternal rest in August, 1778. 

He had long been visibly declining in his health ; but 
could only be prevailed upon to refrain from preaching, 
for some time before his decease, by the express in- 
junction of his physician, and the particular entreaties 
of his friends. 

As his strength wasted and decayed, his consolations 
abounded more and more. He looked not only with 
composure, but delight, on the grave ; and groaned ear- 
nestly for his heavenly habitation. He had constantly, 
to use Dr. Young's expression, — 

" One eye on death, and one full fix'd on heaven." 

In his experience was happily exemplified the truth of 
the observation, that some of the children of God who 
have been least favoured by Divine consolations during 
their pilgrimage towards heaven, have had the richest 
discoveries of Divine grace in the closing scenes of life. 
Then, as Mr. Toplady observed, "the celestial city rises 
full in sight ; the sense of interest in the covenant of 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 227 

grace becomes clearer and brighter ; the book of life is 
opened to the eye of assurance ; the Holy Spirit more 
feelingly applies the blood of sprinkling, and warms the 
soul with that robe of righteousness which Jesus wrought. 
The once feeble believer is made to be as David. The 
once trembling hand is enabled to lay fast hold on the 
cross of Christ. The sun goes down without a cloud." 

To a friend, a day or two before his death, he said, 
with hands clasped, and his eyes lifted up, and starting 
with tears of the most evident joy, " 0, my dear sir, I 
cannot tell you the comforts I feel in my soul — they are 
past expression. The consolations of God to such an 
unworthy wretch, are so abundant, that he leaves me 
nothing to pray for but a continuance of them. I enjoy 
a heaven already in my soul. My prayers are all con- 
verted into praise." 

As he approached nearer and nearer to his departure, 
his conversation seemed more and more happy and hea- 
venly. " 0," said he, "how this soul of mine longs to 
be gone ! Like a bird imprisoned in a cage, it longs 
to take its flight. that I had wings like a dove, then 
would I fly away to the realms of bliss, and be at rest 
forever! that some guardian angel might be com- 
missioned ; for I long to be absent from this body, and 
to be with my Lord forever !" 

At another time he cried out, " what a day of sun- 
shine has this been to me ! I have not w T ords to ex- 
press it. It is unutterable. 0, my friends, how good 
is God ! Almost without interruption, his presence has 
been w T ith me." And then repeating several passages 
of Scripture, he added, " What a great thing it is to 
rejoice in death !" Speaking of Christ, he said, " His 
love is unutterable." When he drew near his end, he 
said, waking from a slumber, " what delights ! Who 
can fathom the joys of the third heaven?" A little 
before his departure he blessed and praised God for 



228 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

continuing to him his understanding in clearness ; 
" but," added he, in a rapture, " for what is most of all — 
his abiding presence and the shining of his love upon 
my soul. The sky is clear ; there is no cloud : ' Come, 
Lord Jesus, come quickly!' " Within the hour of his 
death, he called his friends and his servant, and asked 
them, "If they could give him up?" Upon their an- 
swering in the affirmative, since it pleased the Lord to 
be so gracious to him, he replied, " what a blessing 
it is you are made willing to give me up into the hands 
of my dear Redeemer, and to part with me : it will not 
be long before God takes me ; for no mortal man can 
live (bursting, while he said it, into tears of joy) after 
the glories which God has manifested to my soul." 
Soon after this he closed his eyes, and fell asleep in 
Jesus. 



28. ZIEGENBALG. 

" Instructive heroes ! tell us whence 
Your noble scorn of flesh and sense ! 
You part from all we prize so dear, 
Nor drop one soft reluctant tear ; 
Part from those tender joys of life, 
' Friends, parents, children, husband, wife ;' 
Death's black and stormy gulf you brave, 
And ride exulting on the wave ; 
Deem thrones but trifles all— no more — 
Nor send one wishful look to shore." 

It is probable that the Gospel of the Son of God was 
conveyed to India, within a century after his ascension 
into heaven. But though the seed was sown thus early, 
the harvest has been comparatively small, the greater 
part of the inhabitants of that country, even to the pre- 
sent day, remaining under the power of the prince of dark- 
ness. After the lapse of seventeen centuries from the 
Redeemer's birth, during which idolatry had reigned in 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 229 

India with little opposition, Ziegenbalg, with one fellow- 
labourer, left Europe with the design of conveying to the 
wretched millions of that country the tidings of salva- 
tion. They landed at Tranquebar in July, 1706. They 
soon commenced their important labours; and though 
they toiled in the midst of discouragement and opposi- 
tion, yet they succeeded in their benevolent design. 
After several years of active labour, the time drew near 
when Ziegenbalg should enter his eternal rest. About 
six months before his death, he was seized with excru- 
ciating pains, and with a troublesome cough ; but not- 
withstanding these distressing complaints, he did not 
desist from the duties of his office. For a short time 
before his death he seemed something better, and on the 
day of his death he rose early and united with his wife 
in prayer. Perceiving that his last hour was at hand, 
he called his Hindoo congregation, and partook of the 
Lord's supper amidst ardent prayers and many tears, 
and afterward addressing them in a solemn manner, took 
an affectionate leave of them. Being reminded by his 
colleague, Grundler, of the faith of the Apostle of the 
Gentiles in the prospect of death, who desired to be with 
Christ as being far better, he said, " That also is my 
desire. Washed from my sins in his blood, and clothed 
with his righteousness, I shall enter into his heavenly 
kingdom. I pray that the things which I have spoken 
may be fruitful. Throughout the whole warfare, I have 
fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have 
kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a 
crown of righteousness ;" which words having spoken, he 
desired that the Hindoo children about his bed, and the 
multitude filling the verandahs, and about the house, 
might sing the hymn, beginning 

"Jesus, my Saviour, Lord." 

Soon afterward he yielded up his spirit, amidst the re- 



230 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

joicings and lamentations of a great multitude ; some 
rejoicing at his triumphant death, and early entrance 
into glory, and others lamenting the early loss of their 
faithful apostle, who had first brought the light of the 
Gospel to their dark region of the eastern world. He 
died February 23, 1719, in the thirty-sixth year of 
his age. 



29. JOHN ELLIOT. 

Among those who have shone in the Church of Christ, 
with almost apostolic lustre, John Elliot, the apostle of 
the American Indians, appears conspicuous. 

He was born in England about the year 1604. In 
early life he sought his God, and having found the way 
of peace, devoted himself to the ministry of the GospeL 
Being driven from England by that enmity to real piety, 
and that persecuting spirit which have stamped indeli- 
ble disgrace on the reign of Charles the First, he emi- 
grated in 1631, to what were then the dreary wilder- 
nesses of America ; with Moses, choosing rather to suf- 
fer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the 
pleasures of sin for a season." In America, for almost 
sixty years, he pursued his journey towards heaven. 
After the long pilgrimage of eighty- six years on earth, 
in 1690 he left that land which had become a refuge for 
the Saviour's suffering Church below, to go and join the 
happy and triumphant Church, in that better, far better 
country, which he will never, never leave. 

The present age is esteemed distinguished by the in- 
telligent and zealous spirit manifested for the diffusion 
of religion ; it may justly be thought such, as far as ex- 
ertion is concerned, but in no other view. Elliot in the 
West, and, not long after him, Ziegenbalg in the East, 
pursued the very same plans for promoting Christianity, 
that are pursued now. They preached to the heathen ; 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 231 

brought the printing press into action; established 
schools, and translated the Scriptures. Had their zeal- 
ous labours in the propagation of the Gospel been fol- 
lowed by subsequent correspondent exertions, none can 
tell what would probably, ere this time, have been the 
blessed result. 

Being anxiously concerned for the immortal welfare 
of those miserable savages, (the Indians in his neigh- 
bourhood,) in 1646 he began preaching the Gospel to 
them. Many were the discouragements he encountered, 
the hardships he endured, the dangers to which he was 
exposed. Yet he pursued his work till the wilderness 
rejoiced, and the desert was glad. Alluding to a jour- 
ney among the Indians, in one of his letters, he said, 
" I have not been dry night nor day from the third day 
of the week until the sixth, but so travelled. At night 
I pull off my boots, wring my stockings, and on with 
them again, and so continue. But God steps in and 
helps. " 

He translated the Bible, and various other books, into 
the Indian language ; among which was " Baxter's Call 
to the Unconverted." 

Thus he spent a long life, employed in promoting the 
glory of God, and the temporal and eternal welfare of 
man. He walked in the light of God's countenance all 
the day long ; and it was believed, for many years, en- 
joyed an assurance of the Divine love. He had no fear 
of dying. When suffering from a fever and an ague, a 
visitor said to him, " Sir, fear not." He replied to this 
effect : " Fear ! no, no, I am not afraid. I thank God 
I am not afraid to die." Age at length weakened his 
powers for usefulness. When asked how he did, he 
would sometimes answer: "Alas, I have lost every- 
thing — my understanding leaves me, my memory fails 
me, my utterance fails me ; but I thank God my charity 
holds out still — I find that rather grow than fail." 



232 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

When he conceived himself incapacitated by old age, 
from promoting the welfare of his own congregation, he 
turned his attention to some negroes in the neighbour- 
hood, to whom he thought he might still be useful; and 
when no longer able to go from his house to instruct 
them, he became the teacher of a poor blind boy. 

For many months before he died, he would often 
cheerfully tell those around him, that he was shortly 
going to heaven ; and that he would carry a deal of good 
news thither with him ; referring to the then prosperous 
state of the New-England Churches. 

At length his Lord came to fetch him home. When 
dying, he said to a friend, " Brother, thou art welcome 
to my very soul. Pray retire to the study for me, and 
give me leave to be gone ;" meaning that he should not 
by prayer strive to prolong his life. Referring to the 
progress of the Gospel among the Indians, he said, 
" The Lord revive and prosper that work, and grant it 
may live when 1 am dead. It is a work which I have 
been doing long : but what was that word I spoke last ? 
I recall that word ; my doings, alas ! they have been 
poor and small; and I will be the man that shall throw 
the first stone at them all." One of his last expressions 
was " Welcome, joy !" and he expired, saying, " Pray, 
pray, pray !" 

30. THOMAS TREGOSS. 

This faithful servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, was one 
of the ministers who were ejected from the Church of 
England, on Bartholomew- day, 1662. Cornwall and 
Devonshire were the principal scenes of his labours and 
sufferings. He was repeatedly imprisoned for preach- 
ing the Gospel of his Lord. At length he resolved to 
preach to the number allowed by the persecuting laws 
of the age. He now preached five times every Lord's- 



SEC. II. 1 CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 233 

day, besides engaging in a variety of other public exer- 
cises at other times. Such exertions his constitution 
could not endure. He was soon worn out and hurried 
into the eternal world. When his dissolution drew near 
he took a solemn farewell of his friends. After he had 
spoken some time, his physician interrupted him, lest he 
should exhaust himself too much ; he then said : — 

" Give me leave to speak, for I am upon the borders 
of eternity, and I think you all look upon me as a dying 
man. You may therefore suffer me to speak as much 
as 1 can. I am going to my great, to my dear Father ; 
to my best Friend; to him in whom I have believed. 
His face I hope to see ; in his bosom I hope to lie down 
this day. what unspeakable glory is it to see the 
glory of my everlasting God ! 

"1 have run my race; I have finished my course; I 
have fought the good fight; I have kept the faith! 
What remains but that I receive the crown which the 
Lord the righteous Judge hath prepared for me. And 
now I commit myself to the Lord, and my wife and chil- 
dren to the Lord. I commit my spirit to thee, Father 
of spirits ! I commit my soul to thee, dearest Lord ! 
Keep these that do believe in thee." 

Soon after he had finished speaking he expired, Janu- 
ary 18, 1670. 

31. JOSEPH ALLEINE. 

Joseph Alleine, well known as the author of that ex- 
cellent publication, " An Alarm to the Unconverted," 
early manifested a pious and peculiarly sweet disposi- 
tion. When about eleven years old, it was perceived 
that he was constant and very devout in private praj^er. 
From that time the remainder of his life displayed the 
influence of religion, rendered still more amiable by his 
pleasing deportment. 



234 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. • 

While young he devoted himself to the ministry of the 
Gospel. During the season of previous preparation, he 
studied hard, and acquired a considerable portion of 
learning. 

In 1655 being twenty-one years of age, Mr. Alleine 
became assistant to an aged minister at Taunton. In 
this work he laboured with no small portion of assiduity 
and success. Besides his public services he was inde- 
fatigable in private exertions, to promote the benefit of 
the congregation. He taught from house to house. His 
practice w T as to spend five afternoons in the week, from 
about two o'clock till seven, in visiting the different fami- 
lies of his flock. 

At length the day arrived, which spread a black and 
dismal cloud over the interests of religion in England ; 
a cloud that still darkens many parts of that favoured 
island. Laud's faction, that, in the reign of Charles the 
first, had striven to banish true piety from the land, and 
to introduce in its stead popish mummeries and irreli- 
gion, triumphed in the reign of Charles the second. In 
August, 1662, upwards of two thousand conscientious 
ministers of the Gospel were expelled from their pulpits, 
by the act of uniformity. 

When one of them, to whom the king had a peculiar 
antipathy, was in danger of death, in Newgate, through 
close imprisonment, a petition was presented to Charles 
for his release. The answer was, " Jenkyn shall be a 
prisoner as long as he lives." He died soon after. A 
nobleman having heard of his death, said to the king : 
" May it please your majesty, Jenkyn has got his liberty." 

" Aye," said the king ; " who gave it him ?" 

" A greater than your majesty, the King of kings." 

Charles appeared much struck, and remained silent. 

Joseph Alleine w T as one of the many sufferers at this 
time. When banished from the pulpit he had occupied, 
he still resolved to pursue his beloved work of preaching, 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 235 

and visiting from house to house, till imprisonment or 
exile should stop his labours ; and he sold his goods to 
be the better prepared for either event. 

He was apprehended on a Saturday evening, and taken 
before three justices, who charged him with holding a 
riotous assembly, at a meeting where the only employ- 
ment had been prayer and preaching. Innocence being 
no protection where piety was the crime, after he had 
received some insulting treatment a mittimus was made 
out to send him to Ilchester gaol. He passed the Lord's 
day in Taunton, in custody of an officer, who had orders 
to prevent his preaching. Many of his friends visited 
him, with whom he conversed and prayed, and whom he 
exhorted to perseverance, assuring them that he was 
going to prison full of joy, being confident that the glory 
of Grod would be promoted by his trials. 

On Monday morning, accompanied by two or three 
friends, he set out for Ilchester, and himself carried the 
warrant for his commitment to prison. The streets of 
Taunton were lined with people, many of whom, with 
bitter lamentations, followed him for several miles. The 
scene on this occasion was so affecting that it seemed 
more than he could bear. When himself and his friends 
arrived at Ilchester, the gaoler was not at home. He 
therefore embraced this opportunity, and preached again 
before he entered the prison. He was then committed 
to a chamber, in which were six other ministers, and 
fifty Quakers. His fellow- sufferers in the ministry, and 
himself, preached once or twifce a day, and many resorted 
to them, even from places eight or ten miles distant. 
In July he was indicted at the sessions. The grand 
jury threw out the bill ; yet he was kept in prison. In 
August he was again indicted on the same evidence as 
before. The grand jury now found a bill against him, 
and he was brought to trial. The indictment was, that 
on May 17, 1663, " He, together with twenty others, to 



236 DEATH-BED SCENES, [PART I. 

the jurors unknown, did riotously and seditiously assem- 
ble themselves together, contrary to the peace of our 
sovereign lord the king, and to the great terror of his 
subjects, and to the evil example of others," <fcc. He 
replied that he was guilty of praying and preaching, and 
owned them for his duty ; but that he abhorred riotous 
and seditious assemblies ; and pleaded that he was not 
guilty of the charge of attending one. The jury how- 
ever convicted him, and he was sentenced to pay a fine 
of one hundred marks, (£66 13s. 4d.,) and to be impri- 
soned till this fine was paid. To this he replied, that he 
was glad he had appeared before his country ; that what- 
ever he was charged with, he was guilty of nothing but 
doing his duty; that all which appeared from the evi- 
dence, was only that he had sung a psalm, and instructed 
his family in his own house, while some other persons 
were present; and that he should cheerfully receive 
whatever sentence might be pronounced upon him, in so 
good a cause. He was remanded to prison. In the fol- 
lowing winter, his fellow- sufferers and himself were fa- 
voured with a more convenient room, and hundreds 
flocked to them to hear the word of God. The justices 
raged, and threatened him with exile, but their threats 
were not put into execution. At length he was liberated, 
but sickness soon overtook him. When his health was 
in some measure restored, he again laboured to promote 
the sacred cause of religion. A second imprisonment 
speedily interrupted his labours, and contributed to the 
ruin of his constitution. When liberated a second time, 
it was not for much active exertion. His strength was 
weakened, his health was ruined, and his constitution 
broken by labours and imprisonment. 

He had now, by his example, to teach others how to 
bear sickness, and encounter death. After his release, 
he lingered on upwards of a year; his health, like an 
expiring taper, sometimes brightening, then declining. 






SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 237 

During this season of trial he enjoyed inward peace, and 
said, that God had not tried him in anything, but in lay- 
ing him aside from his work, and in keeping him out of 
heaven. He had not those rapturous joys of which some 
partake; but had a sweet serenity of heart and con- 
science, a confidence in God, grounded on the promises 
of the Gospel, and a belief that it would be well with 
him to all eternity. 

In his illness he had so entirely lost the use of his 
limbs that he could not move a finger ; when asked how 
he could be so well contented to lie so long as he had 
lain in great weakness, he replied : " What ! is God my 
Father, Jesus Christ my Saviour, the Spirit my friend, 
and comforter, and sanctifier, and heaven my inheritance, 
and shall I not be content without limbs and health? 
Through grace I am fully satisfied with my Father's 
good pleasure." 

The hour of his departure now drew on apace. He 
was seized with strong and terrible convulsions, which 
continued with little intermission for two days and 
nights. Prayers were offered that his sufferings might 
be mitigated ; and prayer prevailed. He again became 
able to converse with his sorrowing friends. " 0," said 
he, "how sweet will heaven be!" Looking upon his 
hands, he said, "These shall be changed. This vile 
body shall be made like unto Christ's glorious body. 
what a glorious day will the day of resurrection be ! 
Methinks I see it by faith. How will the saints lift up 
their heads and rejoice !" 

At length his work was finished. His Master called, 
and he entered into rest. He is gone to that country 
where his sun will never set, and God shall be his ever- 
lasting light. 



238 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



32. JAMES HERVEY. 

" Since the dear hour that brought me to thy foot, 
And cut up all my follies by the root, 
I never trusted in an arm but thine ; 
Nor hoped but in thy righteousness Divine, 
My prayers find alms, imperfect and defiled, 
Were but the feeble efforts of a child ; 
Howe'er perform'd, this was their brightest part, 
That they were offerings of a thankful heart ; 
I cast them at thy feet, my only plea 
Is, what it was, — dependence upon thee ; 
While struggling in the vale of griefs below, 
This never failed, nor shall it fail me now." — Cowper. 

This eminent Christian and zealous minister was born 
February 26, 1713, at Hardingstone, near Northampton. 
In early life, he was impressed with the importance of 
religion, but unacquainted with its nature. The state 
of his mind at this time is illustrated by the following 
anecdote. 

In the parish where he preached, there resided a 
ploughman, who attended Doddridge's ministry, and 
who was well acquainted with the doctrines of grace. 
Mr. Hervey sometimes accompanied this ploughman, 
and one morning said to him : " What do you think is 
the hardest thing in religion?" To which he replied, 
"lama poor illiterate man, and you, sir, are a minister ; 
I beg leave to return the question." Then said Mr. 
Hervey, "I think the hardest thing is to deny sinful 
self," and applauded, at some length, this kind of self- 
denial. The ploughman replied: "Mr. Hervey, you 
have forgotten the greatest act of the grace of self-de- 
nial, which is to deny ourselves of a proud confidence in 
our own obedience for justification." 

In repeating this story to a friend, Mr. Hervey ob- 
served: "I then hated the righteousness of Christ; I 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 239 

looked at the man with astonishment and disdain, and 
thought him an old fool. I have seen clearly since who 
was the fool — not the wise old Christian, but the proud 
James Hervey." Little as he knew at this time of the 
way of peace, light soon afterward shone upon his mind. 
"The light," says he, "was not instantaneous; it did 
not flash upon my soul, but arose like the dawning of 
the day. .Now were I possessed of all the righteous acts 
that have made saints and martyrs famous, in all gene- 
rations, could they be transferred to me, and might 1 
call them all my own, I would renounce them all that I 
might win Christ." 

Being himself taught by the Spirit of truth, it now be- 
came his delight to display the glories of the Gospel to 
others. His pulpit no longer resounded with discourses 
on mere heathen morality ; but Christ crucified was the 
theme on which he dwelt. 

By his labours he was made a blessing to many, dur- 
ing his life ; and, since his removal from this world, the 
God of grace has condescended to make his writings the 
means of advancing the immortal good of many more. 
In them, though dead, he yet, with affectionate earnest- 
ness, preaches to the living, and points them to " the 
Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world." 

Some time before the close of Mr. Hervey' s mortal 
course, repeated sickness and weakness warned him that 
he would soon be removed to the rest he had sought. 
In 1747 he was attacked with so severe an illness that 
death appeared to him to be at hand. At this time he 
wrote to a friend : " My health is continually upon the 
decline, and the springs of life are all relaxing ; medicine 
is baffled. Now I apprehend myself near the close of 
life, and stand, as it were, on the brink of the grave, with 
eternity full in my view. Perhaps you would be willing 
to know my sentiments of things ; in this awful situa- 
tion, at such a juncture, the mind is most unprejudiced, 



240 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and the judgment not so liable to be dazzled by the glit- 
ter of worldly objects. I think, then, we are extremely 
mistaken, and sustain a mighty loss, by reading so much, 
and praying so little. Were I to enjoy Hezekiah's 
grant, and have fifteen years added to my life, I would 
be much more frequent in my applications to the throne 
of grace. 

" Truly, my hope, my whole hope, is even in the Lord 
Redeemer. Should the king of terrors threaten, I flee 
to the w ounds of the slaughtered Lamb, as the trembling 
dove to the clefts of the rock. Should Satan accuse, I 
plead the surety of the covenant, who took my guilt upon 
himself, and bore my sins in his own body on the ac- 
cursed tree, on purpose that all the nations of the earth 
might be blessed. Should hell open its jaws, I look up 
to that gracious Being who says, ' Deliver from going 
down to the pit, for I have found out a ransom.' 
Should it be said, No unclean thing can enter heaven, 
my answer is, ' The blood of Jesus his Son cleanseth us 
from all sin. Though my sins be as scarlet they shall 
be white as snow.' Should it be added, None can sit 
down at the marriage- supper of the Lamb without a 
wedding-garment; and your righteousnesses, what are 
they, before the pure law and piercing eye of Grod, but 
filthy rags ? These I renounce, and seek to be found in 
the Lord my righteousness. It is written in the word 
that shall judge the world at the last day, ' By His obedi- 
ence shall many be made righteous ;' so that Jesus, the 
dear and adorable Jesus, is all my trust ; His merits are 
my staff, when I pass through the valley of the shadow 
of death ; His merits are my anchor, when I launch into 
the boundless ocean of eternity. If the God of glory 
pleases to take notice of any of my mean endeavours to 
honour his holy name, it will be infinite condescension 
and grace ; but his Son, his righteousness and his suffer- 
ings, is all my hope and salvation." 



m m 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 241 

Mr. Hervey recovered from, this attack, and survived 
it over ten years. His last illness was of considerable 
length, but during its continuance he evinced the same 
happy and devotional spirit. 

The following expressions, extracted from some of his 
letters, point to the source of all his consolations dur- 
ing this season of weakness and pain. 

" I am now reduced to a state of infant weakness, 
and given over by my physician. My grand consola- 
tion is to meditate on Christ, and I am hourly repeating 
these heart-reviving lines of Dr. Young, in his fourth 
night : — 

' This, only this subdues the fear of death : 

And what is this ? Survey the wond'rous cure, 

And at each step let higher wonder rise ! 

Pardon for infinite offence ! and pardon 

Through means that speak its value infinite ! 

A pardon bought with blood ! with blood Divine ! 

With blood Divine of Him I made my foe ! 

Persisted to provoke ! though woo'd and awed f 

Bless'd and chastised, a flagrant rebel still ! 

A rebel 'midst the thunders of his throne ! 

Nor I alone — a rebel universe ! 

My species up in arms — not one exempt ! 

Yet for the foulest of the foul He died ; 

Most joy'd for the redeemed from deepest guilt, 

As if our race was held of highest rank, 

And Godhead dearer as more kind to man V " 

The Doctor, seeing the great difficulty and pain with 
which he spoke, (for he was almost suffocated with 
phlegm and frequent vomitings,) and finding by his pulse 
that the pangs of death were then coming on, desired 
him that he would spare himself: "No," said he, with 
peculiar ardour, "Doctor, no; you tell me I have but a 
few minutes to live ; let me spend them in adoring 
our great Redeemer !" He then repeated the twenty- 
sixth verse of the seventy-third Psalm, " Though my 
heart and flesh faileth, God is the strength of my heart, 



i 



242 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and my portion forever ;" and he expatiated in a most 
delightful manner on these words of Paul, 1 Cor. iii, 
22, 23, " All are yours, whether life or death, things 
present or things to come," referring his friends to the 
exposition of Dr. Doddridge. " Here," said he, " here 
is the treasure of a Christian; death is reckoned among 
this inventory, and a noble treasure it is ! How thank- 
ful am I for death, as it is the passage through which I 
go to the Lord and Giver of eternal life, and as it frees 
me from all the misery which you see me now endure, 
and which I am willing to endure as long as God thinks 
fit; for I know that he will, by-and-by, in his own good 
time, dismiss me from the body. These afflictions are 
but for a moment, and then comes an eternal weight of 
glory. ! welcome, welcome, death ! thou mayest well 
be reckoned among the treasures of the Christian ; to 
live is Christ, and to die is gain." 

He then paused a little, and with great serenity and 
sweetness in his countenance, being raised a little in his 
chair, repeated these words : " Lord, now lettest thou 
thy servant depart in peace, according to thy most holy 
and comfortable word, for mine eyes have seen thy most 
precious and comfortable salvation." 

About three o'clock he said, " The conflict is over;" 
after which he scarcely spoke any other word intelligi- 
bly, except " precious salvation." During the last hour 
he said nothing. At length, leaning his head against 
the side of the easy chair, without a sigh, groan, or strug- 
gle, or the least emotion, he shut his eyes, and departed, 
between four and five in the afternoon, December 25, 
1758, in the forty-fifth year of his age. 



^ 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. - 243 



33. DR. DONNE. 

This excellent man, on his death-bed, upon taking a 
solemn leave of his friends, made this striking de- 
claration to them : — " 1 repent of all my life except that 
part of it which I spent in communion with God, and 
in doing good." 



34. CHRISTIAN F. SWARTZ. 

" Now safe arrives the heav'nly mariner ; 
The batt'ring' storm, the hurricane of life, 
All dies away in one eternal calm. 
With joy Divine, full glowing in his breast, 
He gains — he gains the port of everlasting rest." 

The Rev. Christian F. Swarfcz undertook a mission to 
India, under the government of Denmark, in 1750; and 
after labouring many years at Tranquebar, and in the 
neighbouring country, he finally removed to Tanjore, 
where he continued till his death, in 1798. 

His unblamable conduct, and devotedness to the 
cause of his Master, gave him a surprising influence 
over all classes, and secured the confidence of the bigoted 
Hindoo. Such was the respect that the Hindoos had 
for Mr. Swartz, that he could go through the country 
unarmed and unhurt in time of war, when parties of 
armed men and robbers infested the country. On seeing 
him they would say, " Let him alone ; he is a man of 
God." He twice saved the fort of Tanjore, when the 
credit of the English was lost, and the credit of the rajah 
also. On the view of an approaching enemy, the people 
of the country refused to supply the fort with pro- 
visions ; and the streets were covered with the dead. 
But upon the bare word of Mr. Swartz that they should 






244 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

be paid, they brought in a plentiful supply. He was 
appointed guardian to the family of the deceased king 
of Tanjore, and employed repeatedly as a mediator be- 
tween the English government and the country powers. 
The last twenty years of his life were spent in the edu- 
cation and religious instruction of children, particularly 
those of poor parents, whom he maintained and instructed 
gratuitously; and at his death willed his property to the 
mission at Tanjore. His success was uncommon. It 
is said he reckoned two thousand persons savingly con- 
verted by his means. 

After this apostolical and venerable man had laboured 
fifty years in evangelizing the Hindoos, so sensible were 
they of the blessing, that his death was considered as a 
public calamity. An innumerable multitude attended 
the funeral. The Hindoo rajah " shed a flood of tears 
over the body, and covered it with a gold cloth." His 
memory is still blessed among the people. 

The following beautiful anecdote is related by Bishop 
Middleton, of this exemplary soldier of the cross: — 
"When lying apparently lifeless, Gericke, a worthy 
fellow-labourer in the service of the same society, who 
imagined the immortal spirit had actually taken its 
flight, began to chant over his remains a stanza of the 
favourite hymn which used to soothe and elevate him 
in his life-time. The verses were finished without a 
sign of recognition or sympathy from the still form be- 
fore him ; but when the last clause was over, the voice 
which was supposed to be hushed in death took up the 
second stanza of the same hymn, completed it with dis- 
tinct and articulate utterance, and then was heard no 
more." 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 245 



35. JEREMIAH EVARTS. 

This eminent and holy man, so well known and beloved 
by every friend of missions, died a triumphant death. 

When nearly exhausted, he expressed with great ten- 
derness his affection for his Saviour; and soon after 
broke out into rapturous expressions: "Praise him — 
praise him — praise him in a way which you know 
not of." 

Some one said to him, " You will soon see Jesus as 
he is, and know how to praise him." 

He replied, " wonderful — wonderful — wonderful 
glory! We cannot comprehend — wonderful glory! I 
will praise him ! I will praise him ! Wonderful — glory 
— Jesus reigneth !" 



36. REV. W. THORP. 

"More I would ask, but all my words are faint; 
Celestial Love, what eloquence can paint ? 
No more by mortal words can be express'd ; 
But vast eternity shall tell the rest." — Mrs. Rowe. 

When this venerable servant of Christ was brought 
down to the bed of death, alluding to his feebleness, he 
said, "I have been forty-six years a preacher of the 
Gospel. I have travelled, on an average, several thou- 
sand miles a year; I have preached for many public 
institutions ; I have met old friends — revived old recol- 
lections — smiled and wept at the varied memory of the 
past— all buoyancy, energy, and health — and now, what 
am I ? how feeble ! how incompetent !" He then added, 
with a manner which no description can convey, " Verily, 
verily I say unto thee, when thou wast young thou 



246 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest.' 
But it is not so now ; no, no, — ' When thou shalt be old, 
thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall 
gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not.' 
Ah, this is very humiliating! — but it must be endured; 
and it is well — it is well ! It is my earnest and constant 
prayer that I may be kept from complaint." 

On the point of submission he was most tenderly con- 
scientious. He seemed to dread nothing so much as a 
spirit of complaint and resistance. 

On one occasion he said to a friend, with evident feel- 
ing and anxiety, " I am afraid I murmur in my afflic- 
tion ; I wish to be submissive, and to be preserved from 
complaint, and to bear patiently whatever my heavenly 
Father may require of me." 

It was remarked by Mrs. Thorp, who had entered 
the chamber, " You don't murmur; I am sure no one 
ever bore affliction with more resignation and patience 
than you do." 

" Ah !" said the sufferer, " I caught myself one day 
saying, * that I had wings like a dove ! — then would I 
fly away, and be at rest;' and this was not right. I 
ought to suffer without a wish of my own, and to be 
entirely resigned to God." 

His friend replied, " I would remind you that David 
made use of those very words." 

"True," he said; "but David did not always please 
God ; our desire should be to yield up ourselves to the 
will of God, whatever that will may be." 

Once, when alone with his partner, he said, " We are 
all going — and you will go ; but I shall see you with 
Jesus." Then, turning his brightening eye impressively 
on her, he said, " Mark me ! I shall know you at the 
resurrection." 

On one occasion he appeared to be in deep musing ; 
he was evidently lost to all surrounding objects, and 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 247 

did not know that there was any one in the room. He 
raised his eyes with an expression of solemn tenderness 
which was most striking and affecting, and said, — 

"Sweet the moments, rich in blessing, 
Which before the cross I spend." 

During the last four weeks of his life he dictated a 
letter every week to the Church at this place, which 
was read at the weekly prayer-meeting that had been 
specially appointed to be held on his behalf. For the 
uniform kindness of his beloved friends at Castle- Green, 
he always expressed the warmest and most grateful 
estimation; and these last communications of pastoral 
affection were in admirable keeping with the simplicity 
and evangelical unction that distinguished his ministry. 
The letters are eminently spiritual and consolatory, and 
the last he dictated was written within ten hours of his 
decease. It was on the subject of prayer ; and before 
it was read to the little praying company assembled to- 
gether, their supplications and intercessions for him 
were no longer needed. The Church at Jerusalem was 
praying when Peter, their imprisoned pastor, was set at 
liberty; but a nobler liberty had been granted to this 
beloved minister — when his flock were gathered together 
for prayer, death, like the angel of God, had gently 
touched him, the fetters of mortality had burst asunder, 
and his happy spirit was conducted " through the gate 
to the city," — the new Jerusalem above. 

His son was standing near him about eleven o'clock 
on the night of his departure, and heard him say, 
musingly, " A funeral procession ; there they are all in 
mourning, and surrounding the open grave." 

" Who ?" asked his son. 

He added, " The ministers, the deacons, members of 
the Churches." 

" But," his son interrupted, "you do not see this." 



248 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

He instantly raised his face, his eye beaming with 
that look of solemn energy which generally preceded 
any remarkable expression, " No, my son, not literally, 
but in the mind's eye — it is coming, it is coming !" 

"Do you fear it, father ?" 

He instantly answered, with remarkable emphasis, 
and with a strength of tone which produced astonish- 
ment, "A T o, no, I have no reason: does not He live?" 

To one of his daughters he said, " You now see your 
father in the swellings of Jordan. God is dividing the 
waters to form a passage for me — and beyond is the 
promised land, into which I am about to enter." 

A few minutes before his departure he said, " Hope !" 

His now bereaved widow added, " As an anchor of 
the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth 
into that within the veil." 

He replied, "Yes, yes" and immediately expired. 



37. BISHOP BEDELL. 

Mr. Simpson introduces, by way of contrast to the 
death-bed scenes of Chesterfield, Voltaire, Rousseau, 
and other such unhappy characters, the death-bed scene 
of the learned and excellent Bishop Bedell, whom he 
calls the scourge of ecclesiastical corruption, a pattern 
for prelates and clergymen, and the glory of the Irish 
hierarchy. 

After a life spent in the most laborious service of his 
Divine Master, when he apprehended his great change 
to draw near, he called for his sons, and his sons' wives, 
and spake to them, at several times, as he was able, the 
following words : — 

" I am going the way of all flesh : I am ready to be 
offered up, and the time of my departure is at hand. 
Knowing, therefore, that shortly I must put off this 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 249 

tabernacle, even as our Lord Jesus Christ hath showed 
me, I know also, that if this my earthly house of this 
tabernacle were dissolved, I have a building of God, a 
house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens — a 
fair mansion in the new Jerusalem, which cometh down 
out of heaven from my God. Therefore, to me to live 
is Christ, and to die is gain ; which increaseth my de- 
sire even now to depart, and to be with Christ, which 
is far better than to continue here in all the transitory, 
vain, and false pleasures of this world, of which I have 
seen an end. 

u Hearken, therefore, unto the last words of your dying 
father. I am no more in this world ; but ye are in the 
world. I ascend to my Father and your Father, to my 
God and your God, through the all-sufficient merits of 
Jesus Christ my Redeemer; who ever lives to make 
intercession for me, who is a propitiation for all my 
sins, and washed me from them all in his own blood, 
who is worthy to receive glory, and honour, and power, 
who hath created all things, and for whose pleasure they 
are, and were created. 

" My witness is in heaven, and my record on high, 
that I have endeavoured to glorify God on earth ; and 
in the ministry of the Gospel of his dear Son, which 
was committed to my trust, I have finished the work 
which he gave me to do, as a faithful ambassador of 
Christ, and steward of the mysteries of God ; I have 
preached righteousness in the great congregation — lo, I 
have not refrained my lips, Lord ! thou knowest. I 
have not hid thy righteousness within my heart ; I have 
declared thy faithfulness and thy salvation ; I have not 
concealed thy loving-kindness and thy truth from the 
great congregation of mankind. He is near that justi- 
fieth me, that I have not concealed the words of the 
Holy One ; but that the words that he gave me I have 
given to you, and ye have received them. 

11* 



250 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

" I had a desire and resolution to walk before God in 
every stage of my pilgrimage, from my youth up to this 
day, in truth, and with an upright heart, and to do that 
which was upright in his eyes, to the utmost of my 
power ; and what things were gain to me formerly, these 
things I now count loss for Christ : yea, doubtless, and 
I count all things but loss, for the excellency of the 
knowledge of Jesus Christ my Lord ; for whom I have 
suffered the loss of all things ; and I account them but 
dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him, not 
having my own righteousness, which is of the law, but 
that which is through the faith of Christ — the righteous- 
ness which is of God by faith ; that I may know him, 
and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of 
his sufferings, being made conformable to his death. I 
press, therefore, toward the mark, for the prize of the 
high calling of God in Christ Jesus. 

" Let nothing separate you from the love of Christ — 
neither tribulation, nor distress, nor persecution, nor 
famine, nor nakedness, nor peril, nor sword; though, 
as we hear and see, for his sake we are killed all the 
day long, we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter ; 
yea, in all these things we are more than conquerors 
through Him that loved us : for I am persuaded that 
neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor 
powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor 
height, nor depth, nor any creature, shall be able to 
separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus, my 
Lord. Therefore, love not the world, nor the things of 
the world ; but prepare daily and hourly for death that 
now besieges us on every side, and be faithful unto death, 
that we may meet together joyfully on the right hand 
of Christ at the last day, and follow the Lamb whither- 
soever he goeth, with all those that are clothed in white 
robes in sign of innocency, and palms in their hands in 
sign of victory, who came out of great tribulation, and 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. . 251 

have washed their robes, and made them white in the 
blood of the Lamb. They shall hunger no more, nor 
thirst, neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat ; 
for the Lamb that is in the midst of the throne shall 
feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of 
waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their 
eyes. Choose rather, with Moses, to suffer affliction 
with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of 
sin for a season, which will be bitterness in the latter 
end. Look, therefore, for the sufferings, and be made 
partakers of the sufferings of Christ ; to fill up that which 
is behind of the affliction of Christ in your flesh, for his 
body's sake, which is the Church. What can you look 
for but one woe after another, while the man of sin is 
thus suffered to rage, and to make havoc of God's people 
at his pleasure, while men are divided about trifles, that 
ought to have been more vigilant over us, and careful 
of those whose blood is precious in God's sight, though 
now shed everywhere like water. If ye suffer for right- 
eousness' sake, happy are ye ; be not afraid of their terror, 
neither be ye troubled ; and be ye in nothing terrified by 
your adversaries, which is to them an evident token of 
perdition, but to you of salvation, and that of God. For 
to you it is given in behalf of Christ, not only to believe 
in him, but also to suffer for his sake. Rejoice, there- 
fore, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings, 
that when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad 
also with exceeding joy. And if ye be reproached for 
the name of Christ, happy are ye — the Spirit of glory 
and of Christ resteth on you ; on their part he is evil- 
spoken of, on your part he is glorified. 

" God will surely visit you in due time, and turn your 
captivity as the rivers of the south, and bring you back 
again into your possession in this land : though now for 
a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through mani- 
fold temptations, yet ye shall reap in joy, though now 



252 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

you sow in tears : all our losses shall be recompensed 
with abundant advantages ; for my God will supply all 
your need, according to his riches in glory, by Christ 
Jesus, who is able to do exceeding abundantly for us, 
above all that we are able to ask or think." 

After that he blessed his children and those that stood 
about him, in an audible voice, in these words : — 

" God of his infinite mercy bless you all, and present 
you holy, and unblamable, and irreprovable in his 
sight, that ye may meet together at the right hand of 
our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ, with joy unspeakable 
and full of glory. Amen. I have fought the good fight, 
I have finished the course of my ministry and life to- 
gether. Though grievous wolves have entered in among 
us, not sparing the flock, yet I trust the great Shep- 
herd of the flock will save and deliver them out of all 
places where they have been scattered in this cloudy 
and dark day ; and they shall be no more a prey to the 
heathen, neither shall the beasts of the land devour 
them, but they shall dwell safely, and none shall make 
them afraid. Lord, I have waited for thy salvation ! 
I have kept the faith once given to the saints; for I 
know in whom I have believed, and I am persuaded 
that He is able to keep that which I have committed 
to him against that day." 

After this the good bishop spake little more. His 
sickness increased, his speech failed, and he slumbered 
the remainder of his time away, till his discharge came. 

Let incredulity itself say, if this was not an admira- 
ble close of a laborious and useful life. 

One may defy all the sons of infidelity to show us an 
example among their brethren of a life so useful, and a 
death so great, so noble, so glorious as this of the good 
bishop. 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 253 



38. JOHN KNOX. 

"Was this then death? 
soft, yet sudden change, what shall I call thee? 
No more — no more thy name be death. And thou, 
Corruption's dreaded power, how changed to joy ! 
Sleep, then, companion of my first existence, 
Seed sown by God to ripen for the harvest." — Bulmer's Messiah. 

John Knox, the Scottish reformer's dying words were : 
" Come, Lord Jesus, sweet Jesus ; into thy hands I 
commend my spirit : be merciful, Lord, to thy 
Church, which thou hast redeemed; raise up faithful 
pastors." After this, calling his friends to his bedside, 
he broke out in these rapturous expressions: "I have 
been meditating on the troubled state of the Church, 
the spouse of Christ ; I have called on God, and com- 
mitted her to her Head, Christ ; I have fought against 
spiritual wickedness in high places, and have prevailed ; 
I have tasted of the heavenly joys, where presently I 
shall be." " Now, for the last time, I commit soul, 
body, and spirit into his hands." Uttering a deep 
sigh, he said, " Noiv it is come /" His faithful attend- 
ant desired him to give his friends a sign that he died 
in peace. On this he waved his hand, and, uttering two 
deep sighs, fell asleep in Jesus. 



39. ROBERT BRUCE. 

Robert Bruce, another bright and shining light of that 
Church, had been educated for the law by his father, one 
of the first barons of Scotland, and had got a patent to 
be one of the lords of session. But he was called by the 
grace of God to the ministry, and abandoning all his 



254 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

fascinating prospects, he joyfully took up the cross and 
followed Jesus. He was ordained to the ministry in 
Edinburgh, where he withstood king James' attempts to 
overturn the religion and liberties of Scotland, until he 
was exiled. He died in his seventy- second year. He 
had taken his seat as usual at breakfast, and having 
eaten an egg as he used to do, and feeling still a good 
appetite, he called for another ; but suddenly reclining 
his head in a musing posture, he said, " Hold, daughter, 
my Master calls me !" He lost his sight in a few mo- 
ments ; but calling for the Bible, he told them to open it 
at the eighth chapter of the Romans, at these words : 
" For I am persuaded that neither death nor life shall be 
able to separate me from the love of God which is in 
Christ Jesus our Lord." 

" Now," said the venerable man, " put my finger on 
these words;" and being told that it was, he said, " Now, 
God be with you, my dear children ; I have breakfasted 
with you, and I shall sup with my Lord Jesus Christ 
this night." And saying this, he gently fell asleep. 



40. SAMUEL RUTHERFORD. 

" Ah yes ! the hour is come 
When thou must hasten home, 
Pure soul ! to Him who calls ; 
The God who gave thee breath 
Walks by the side of death, 
And naught that step appals." — Landok. 

Samuel Rutherford, one of the most resplendent 
lights that ever rose in Scotland, was the professor of 
divinity in the University of St. Andrew T, s. When the 
parliament of Scotland summoned him for trial because 
he stood up for liberty and religion, he was on his dying 
bed. " Tell the parliament," said he to the messenger, 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 255 

" that I have received a summons to a higher bar ; I 
must needs answer that first; and when the day you 
name shall come, I shall be where few of you shall enter." 

In his last moments he said to the ministers around 
him, " There is none like Christ. 0, dear brethren, 
pray for Christ, preach for Christ, do all for Christ ; 
feed the flock of God. And 0, beware of men-pleas- 
ing." Having recovered from a fainting fit, he said, " I 
feel, I feel, I believe, I joy, I rejoice, I feed on manna; 
my eyes shall see my Redeemer, and I shall be ever 
with him. And what would you more ? I have been a 
sinful man ; but I stand at the best pass that ever a man 
did. Christ is mine and I am his. Glory, glory to my 
Creator and Redeemer forever. Glory shines in Im- 
manuel's land. for arms to embrace him! for a 
well-tuned harp!" 

He continued exulting in God his Saviour to the last, 
as one in the full vision of joy and glory. 



41. DR. WM. P. CHANDLER. 

"I will tell thee even more, 
Ten thousand years from now ; if but with thee 
I too reach heaven, and with new language there, 
When an eternity of bliss has gone, 
Bless God for new eternities to be." — Coxe. 

Mr. Chandler was a native of Maryland, and became 
a member of the Philadelphia Conference of the Metho- 
dist Episcopal Church in 1797. His health failed and 
he was compelled to desist from preaching in 1810, but 
he lingered on with broken health till 1822. 

The closing scene of his life is thus described by a 
physician and Christian brother : — 

" I visited Dr. Chandler daily during his last illness, 
which was of long continuance. His disease was an al- 



256 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

most universal paralysis. The attack had at first been 
confined to one side, and, after a partial recovery only 
of that side, the other became affected in like manner 
with the first. His mind, as well as his body, felt the 
effects of the disease, which at times caused a considera- 
ble derangement of intellect ; but notwithstanding the 
confusion that was apparent in his mental operations, his 
constant theme was his God and the salvation of his 
soul, and on these subjects it was truly surprising to 
hear him converse. Although Dr. Chandler seemed in- 
capable of rational reflection on other subjects, yet on 
that of religion, at intervals, he never conversed with 
more fluency, correctness, and feeling, at any period 
of his life. He appeared to be exceedingly jealous of 
himself, and occasionally labouring under fear lest he 
might have deceived himself, and that he should finally 
become a castaway ; but of these apprehensions he was 
generally relieved whenever we approached a throne of 
grace, which we were in the habit of doing on almost 
every visit. In this state he remained until within a 
few days of his death, when the Lord was graciously 
pleased, in a most extraordinary manner, to pour out 
his Spirit upon his servant ; and although his body was 
fast sinking, his mind, for two days, was restored to 
perfect vigour and correctness. During this time he 
seemed to be in the borders of the heavenly inheritance. 
He spoke of the glories, the joys, and the inhabitants of 
heaven, as though he had been in the midst of them. 
He remarked to me at the time that he felt that his soul 
had begun to dissolve its connexion with the body ; and 
that there was a freedom, a clearness and ease in its 
views and operations that was entirely new to him, and 
that he had never before formed a conception of — ' In 
fact,' said he, ' 1 know not whether I am in the body or 
out of it/ Soon after this he sunk into a stupor, in 
which he remained to the last." 



SEC. II.] CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. . 257 



42. WM. ROMAINE. 

Romaine was a zealous and successful preacher of the 
Gospel of Jesus Christ, and adorned it by a suitable 
character, above fifty years. In his last illness he 
said, "I have the peace of God in my conscience, and 
the love of God in my heart. I knew before the doc- 
trines I preached to be truths, but now I experience 
them to be blessings. Jesus is more precious than ru- 
bies, and all that can be desired on the earth is not to be 
compared to him." He was in full possession of his 
mental powers to the last moment, and near his dissolu- 
tion cried out, " Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty ! 
Glory be to thee on high, for such peace on earth, and 
good- will to men." 



43. AN AGED MINISTER. 

A good old minister, who died in 1807, at nearly ninety 
years of age, had been long incapable of engaging in 
public services, and had lost his recollection. On the 
evening before his death, a neighbouring minister visited 
him, but he did not know him. Being told who he was, 
he answered, " No, I do not remember any such person." 
His beloved son was introduced to him ; but he did not 
know him. In short, his memory was so impaired that he 
knew none of his friends or family about him. At last 
he was asked, " Do you not remember the Lord Jesus 
Christ ?" On this his eyes brightened ; and attempting 
to lift his hands in the hour of death, he exclaimed, " ! 
yes, I do, I do ! I remember the Lord Jesus Christ ! 
He is my Lord and my God, by whom I hope to be 
saved!" 



258 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

SECTION III. 

(EjjrUttan HUn. 

1. ROBERT BOYLE. 

"Piety has found 
Friends in the friends of science, and true prayer 
Has flow'd from lips wet with Castalian dews." 

Robert Boyle, eminent alike for science and piety, 
was the son of Richard, earl of Cork ; and was born in 
the year 1627. 

He was a man of great learning ; and his stock of 
knowledge was immense. The celebrated Dr. Boer- 
haave has passed the following eulogium upon him: 
"Boyle was the ornament of his age and country. 
Which of his writings shall I commend ? All of them. 
To him we owe the secrets of fire, air, water, animals, 
vegetables, fossils ; so that from his works may be de- 
duced the whole system of natural knowledge." 

He was treated with particular kindness and respect 
by King Charles the Second, as well as by the two great 
ministers, Southampton and Clarendon. By the latter, 
he was solicited to enter into orders ; for his distin- 
guished learning and unblemished reputation, induced 
Lord Clarendon to think, that so very respectable a per- 
sonage would do great honour to the clergy. Boyle 
considered the proposal with due attention. He re- 
flected, that, in his present situation of life, whatever he 
wrote with respect to religion, would have greater 
weight, as coming from a layman ; for he well knew that 
the irreligious fortified themselves against all that the 
clergy could offer, by supposing and saying, that it was 
their trade, and that they were paid for it. He con- 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 259 

sidered, likewise, that, in point of fortune and character, 
he needed no accession; and, indeed, his desire for 
these was always very limited. But Bishop Burnet, to 
whom Boyle had communicated memorandums concern- 
ing his life, tells us, that what had the greatest weight, 
in determining his judgment, was, " the not feeling with- 
in himself any motion or tendency of mind, which he 
could safely esteem a call from the Holy Spirit; and 
therefore he did not venture to take holy orders, lest he 
should be found to have lied unto it." 

The encyclopaedist says that one of the most promi- 
nent features of his character, was his sincere and unaf- 
fected piety. This was exemplified in all his writings 
and in the whole course of his life. The great object of 
his philosophical pursuits, was to promote the cause of 
religion, and to discountenance atheism and infidelity. 
His intimate friend, Bishop Burnet, makes the follow- 
ing observations on this point : " It appeared to those 
who conversed with him on his inquiries into nature, that 
his main design (on which as he had his own eye con- 
stantly fixed, so he took care to put others often in mind 
of it) was to raise in himself and others more exalted 
sentiments of the greatness and glory, the wisdom and 
goodness of God. This design was so deeply impressed 
on his mind, that he concludes the article of his will, 
which relates to the Royal Society, in these words: 'I 
wish them a happy success, in their attempts to discover 
the true nature of the works of God ; and I pray that 
they, and all other searchers into physical truths, may 
cordially refer their attainments to the glory of the 
great Author of nature, and to the comfort of mankind.' " 

Bishop Burnet also says of him : " He had the most 
profound veneration for the great God of heaven and 
earth that I ever observed in any man. The very name 
of God was never mentioned by him, without a pause 
and observable stop in his discourse." 



260 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

His liberality was almost unbounded. He was at the 
charge of the translation and impression of the New 
Testament into the Malayan tongue ; and he had it dis- 
persed in the East Indies. He gave a great reward to 
the person who translated into Arabic Grotius's incom- 
parable book on the truth of the Christian religion ; and 
had a whole edition printed at his own expense, which 
he took care to have spread in all the countries where 
that language was understood. By munificent donations, 
and by his patronage, he also very materially promoted 
the plans of other persons for propagating the Christian 
religion in remote parts of the world. In other respects, 
his charities were so extensive, that they amounted to 
more than a thousand pounds sterling every year. 

He died like a Christian philosopher, in the full as- 
surance of that faith he had embraced, and to the estab- 
lishment and propagation of which his best energies had 
been devoted. Of his firm attachment to Christianity, 
and of his solicitude for vindicating its truth, and ex- 
tending the knowledge and influence of it, he exhibited 
the most substantial proofs, both while he lived and at 
his death. 



2. JOHN HOWARD. 

" Howard, thy task is done ! thy Master calls, 
And summons thee from Cherson's distant walls ; — 
1 Come, well-approved ! my faithful servant, come ! 
My minister of good, I 've sped the way, 
And shot through dungeon glooms a leading ray ; 
I 've led thee on through wondering climes, 
To combat human woes and human crimes ; 
But 'tis enough ! — thy great commission's o'er ; 
I prove thy faith, thy love, thy zeal no more.' " — Aiken. 

John Howard was born at Hackney, England, in the 
year 1726. His religious principles were strongly fixed 
even in his early youth, and continued steady and 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 261 

uniform through life. As the devoted friend of the poor 
and unfortunate, he is known all over the world, and his 
memory will be revered to the end of time. 

Dr. Aikin thus speaks of his character and work : — 

" Among those truly illustrious persons who, in the 
several ages and nations of the world, have marked their 
track through life by a continued course of doing good, 
few have been so distinguished, either by the extent of 
the good produced or by the purity of motive and energy 
of character exhibited in the process of doing it, as the 
late John Howard. To have adopted the cause of the 
prisoner, the sick, and the destitute, not only in his own 
country, but throughout Europe ; to have considerably 
alleviated the burden of present misery among those 
unfortunate classes, and, at the same time, to have pro- 
vided for the reformation of the vicious, and the preven- 
tion of future crimes and calamities ; to have been in- 
strumental in the actual establishment of many plans of 
humanity and utility, and to have laid the foundation for 
much more improvement hereafter ; and to have done 
all this, as a private, unaided individual, struggling with 
toils, dangers, and difficulties, which might have appalled 
the most resolute, is surely a range of beneficence, 
which scarcely ever before came within the compass of 
one man's exertions." 

Deeply impressed with a sense of the importance of 
his designs, and of the uncertainty of human life, he was 
desirous of doing as much as possible within the allotted 
limits. And the number of prisons and hospitals which 
he visited, in a short period of time, is surprising. The 
pious and well-governed disposition by which he was 
actuated, is forcibly expressed in the following passage 
extracted from one of his interesting publications : — 

" To my country I commit the result of my past la- 
bours. It is my intention again to quit it, for the pur- 
pose of revisiting Russia, Turkey, and some other coun- 



262 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PAKT I- 

tries, and extending my tour in the East. I am not in- 
sensible of the dangers that must attend such a journey. 
Trusting, however, in the protection of that kind Provi- 
dence which has hitherto preserved me, I calmly and 
cheerfully commit myself to the disposal of unerring 
Wisdom. Should it please God to cut off my life in the 
prosecution of this design, let not my conduct be uncan- 
didly imputed to rashness or enthusiasm, but to a seri- 
ous, deliberate conviction that I am pursuing the path 
of duty, and to a sincere desire of being made an in- 
strument of greater usefulness to my fellow- creatures 
than could be expected in the narrow circle of a retired 
life." 

A little before the last time of his leaving England, 
when a friend expressed his concern at parting with him, 
from an apprehension that they should never meet again, 
he cheerfully replied : " We shall soon meet in heaven ;" 
and, as he rather expected to die of the plague in Egypt, 
he added : " The way to heaven from Grand Cairo is 
as near as from London." He said he was perfectly 
easy as to the event, and made use of the words of 
Father Paul, who, when his physicians told him he had 
not long to live, said, " It is well ; whatever pleases God 
pleases me." 

This good man was arrested in his career of useful- 
ness, by a disease, supposed to be the plague, at Cherson, 
in the beginning of the year 1690. He was perfectly 
sensible, during his illness, except at short intervals, till 
within a very few hours before his death. He was fully 
prepared for the event, and often said, that he had no 
wish for life, but as it gave him the means of relieving 
his fellow-creatures. 



SEC. in.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 263 



3. CURAENS, A GERMAN PHYSICIAN. 

The following expressions are stated to have dropped 
from the dying lips of a German physician. They dis- 
play a desire similar to that which the great apostle of 
the Gentiles felt when he declared that it was better for 
him to depart and be with Christ : — 

" Lord, I am oppressed ; but to me it is enough that 
thy hand hath done it. My breast burns now at the 
sight of eternal life, the beginnings of which I do really 
feel within me. Son of God, my soul longs with desire 
and leaps with joy, to come to thee ; and because it is 
yet withheld, I think the time long. I desire to be dis- 
solved — let me be dissolved, that I may be with 
thee ! I groan for that dwelling above, which thou hast 
revealed to me. As the traveller in a dark nidit lono;s 
for the rising sun, so do I earnestly look for the bright- 
ness of that light which is in the presence of the Father, 
Son, and Holy Spirit. There I shall follow the Lamb 
whithersoever he goeth. glorious and Divine Leader ! 
The eye hath not seen, nor the ear heard, what God 
hath prepared for them that love him, neither hath it 
entered into the heart of man. This earthly life is but 
death ; but this is life indeed which Christ hath begun 
in my soul ; and now I live — yet not I, but Christ liveth 
in me. I see the heavens now open. Now let thy 
servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy 
salvation. Thou, Jesus Christ, art my resurrection 
and my life. How lovely are thy tabernacles, my 
Redeemer ! I die in the Lord, who is my life, and in 
the acknowledgment and faith of Jesus Christ. 
pleasant change, and translation from sin into a state 
of holiness ; from darkness into light ; and from death 
into life !" 



264 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



4. SIR. WILLIAM JONES. 

* ' If in that frame no deathless spirit dwell, 
If that faint murmur be the last farewell, 
If faith unite the faithful but to part, 
Why is their memory sacred to the heart ?"— Campbell. 

Sir William Jones, an eminent lawyer, and most ac- 
complished scholar, was born in London, in the year 
1746. He lost his father when he was only three years 
of age ; and the care of his education devolved on his 
mother, a woman of uncommon mental endowments. 

He was not one of those happy geniuses (if such there 
are) who can make brilliant acquisitions without pains. 
It was, on the contrary, by the most sedulous industry, 
and the renunciation of the usual diversions of a school- 
boy, joined with the natural gift of a very retentive 
memory, that he was enabled to lay in those ample 
stores of knowledge, by which he became so highly dis- 
tinguished. 

After graduating at Oxford, he pursued his profes- 
sional studies at the Temple, and was admitted to the 
bar in 1774. And in 1783, he received the appoint- 
of a judge of the Supreme Court of judicature at Fort 
William, in Bengal ; and at the same time the honour 
of knighthood was conferred upon him. 

The field of action and inquiry which opened to him 
in India, was immense. He planned the institution of 
a society in Calcutta, similar to the Royal Society of 
London ; and the labours and discoveries of this institu- 
tion have been very interesting and eminently useful. 
For his extensive researches into the history, laws, 
literature, and religion of India, the world is greatly in- 
debted to him, and from them the cause of Christianity 
has derived no inconsiderable aid. 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 265 

This learned and excellent man was, in the prime of 
his days, and when apparently in good health, seized 
with a disorder which, in about a week, put a period to 
his valuable life. His biographer, Lord Teignmouth, 
observes, that " the progress of the complaint was un- 
commonly rapid, and terminated fatally on the 27th of 
April, 1794." 

As religion was the subject of his meditations in 
health, it was more forcibly impressed upon his mind 
during illness. He knew the duty of resignation to the 
will of his Maker, and of dependence on the merits of a 
Redeemer. These sentiments are expressed in a short 
prayer, which he composed during his indisposition in 
1784, and which is in the following words : — 

" thou Bestower of all good ! if it please thee to 
continue my easy tasks in this life, grant me strength to 
perform them as a faithful servant ; but if thy wisdom 
hath willed to end them by this thy visitation, admit me, 
not weighing my unworthiness, but through thy mercy 
declared in Christ, into thy heavenly mansions, that I 
may continually advance in happiness, by advancing in 
true knowledge and awful love of thee. Thy will be 
done !" 

5. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 

Sm Philip Sidney was born in Kent, in the year 1554. 
He possessed shining talents, was well educated, and at 
the early age of twenty- one was sent by Queen Eliza- 
beth as her ambassador to the emperor of Germany. 
He is described by the writers of that age, as the finest 
model of an accomplished gentleman that could be 
formed, even in imagination. An amiable disposition, 
elegant erudition, and polite conversation, rendered him 
the ornament and delight of the English court. Lord 
Brooke so highly valued his friendship, that he directed 

12 



266 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

to be inserted as part of his epitaph, " Here lies Sir 
Philip Sidney's friend." His fame was so widely 
spread, that, if he had chosen it, he might have obtained 
the crown of Poland. 

But the glory of this Marcellus of the English nation, 
was of short duration. He was wounded at the battle 
of Zutphen, and carried to Arnheim, where, after lan- 
guishing about three weeks, he died, in the thirty- second 
year of his age. 

This accomplished person, at the solemn period of ap- 
proaching death, when a just estimate of things is formed, 
and when the mind looks round for support and conso- 
lation, perceived that the greatest worldly honours are 
only splendid vanities, and have but a momentary dura- 
tion. At this period, he was so dissatisfied with his 
" Arcadia," a romantic work, ill agreeing with his pre- 
sent serious views of things, that it is said he desired it 
might never be published. 

After he had received the fatal wound, and was 
brought into a tent, he piously raised his eyes towards 
heaven, and acknowledged the hand of God in this event. 
He confessed himself to be a sinner, and returned thanks 
to God, that " he had not struck him with death at once, 
but gave him space to seek repentance and reconcilia- 
tion." 

Compared with his present views of religion, his for- 
mer virtues seemed to be nothing. When it was ob- 
served to him, that good men, in the time of grea/t afflic- 
tion, found comfort and support in the recollection of 
those parts of their lives in which they had glorified 
God, he humbly replied : " It is not so with me. I have 
no comfort that way. All things in my former life have 
been vain." 

On being asked whether he did not desire life, merely 
to have it in his power to glorify God, he answered : "I 
have vowed my life unto God ; and if he cut me off, and 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 267 

suffer me to live no longer, I shall glorify him, and give 
up myself to his service." 

The nearer death approached, the more his consola- 
tion and hopes increased. A short time before his dis- 
solution, he lifted up his eyes and hands, and uttered 
these words : " I would not change my joy for the empire 
of the world." 

His advice and observations, on taking the last leave 
of his deeply- afflicted brother, are worthy of remem- 
brance. They appear to have been expressed with 
great seriousness and composure. " Love my memory ; 
cherish my friends. Their fidelity to me may assure 
you that they are honest. But, above all, govern your 
will and affections by the will and word of your Crea- 
tor. In me, behold the end of the world, and all its 
vanities." 



6. LORD TEIGNMOUTH. 

" Time is eternity ; 
Pregnant with all eternity can give, 
Pregnant with all that- makes archangels smile." — Young. 

Lord Teignmouth is well known as racing occupied, 
during a period of thirty years, the distinguished post 
of president of the " British and Foreign Bible Society." 
Some of the early days of his more active life were spent 
in India, where he held several appointments under the 
East India Company with honour and success. In 
1775 he was constituted governor of the Supreme 
Council at Fort William. The post of governor-general 
of Bengal was afterward forced upon him — then Sir 
John Shore— by Mr. Pitt's ministry. He entered upon 
this high office in the spirit of a Christian, and preserved 
the same unostentatious simplicity by which he had been 
ever characterized. Here he received the honour of a 



268 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

peerage, and soon after returned to England, spending 
his time in the society of his well-chosen friends, Grant, 
Wilberforce, Henry Thornton, and others, whose names 
have long been eminent for piety and philanthropy. In 
1804, the Bible Society was formed, and Lord Teign- 
mouth became its first president, a position which he 
retained till his death. To the duties of this situation 
he devoted himself with the most ardent zeal and untir- 
ing energy, entering into a large correspondence on its 
behalf, and long preparing its annual reports. During 
many years of his life he devoted three hours a day to 
purposes of devotion. His closing scene was beauti- 
fully descriptive of the power of those Christian prin- 
ciples under the influence of which he had lived, and in 
the consolations of which he departed. To his old and 
faithful servants he said, " It is my duty to be as thank- 
ful for my sufferings as for my other mercies." The 
Rev. Henry Blunt frequently visited him in his last 
illness, and furnishes some notes of his lordship's con- 
versations : — 

" ' I am anxious,' said his lordship, * to know whether 
you think 1 am right. I depend upon nothing in my- 
self. I know I am a poor, helpless sinner, and I trust 
entirely to jpy" gracious Saviour. I depend only on 
what he has done for me. My whole life has been a 
life of mercies ; I am surrounded by mercies. Few 
have spent so happy a life as mine has been ; but I am 
not grateful enough for it. I feel an increasing dulness 
and coldness in my prayers. I cannot pray as I could 
wish. But the Lord will not visit this upon me. Do 
you think he will? God is not a hard task-master; he 
has always been most merciful to me, and I ought to 
trust him now. What wonderful preservations I have 
received from Him, particularly in India !' 

" The last time I saw Lord Teignmouth, almost as 
soon as I had sat down, he said, ' Mr. Blunt, 1 will tell 



SEC. III.] CHKISTIAN MEN. 269 

you what I was just thinking of. It describes my state 
at present, for I do not think that I have much longer 
to remain here. But this is what I am. doing; I am 
looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appear- 
ing of the great God and of our Saviour Jesus Christ, 
who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from 
all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, 
zealous of good works. I have no hope but in Christ 
Jesus, in his sacrifice, in his blood, in his righteousness. 
What could all the world do for me now , so great a 
sinner as I am, and so helpless ? What could save me 
but my gracious Redeemer V " 

" His end," says the Rev. Robert Anderson, his son- 
in-law, "was perfect peace. The only embarrassing 
circumstance of a private nature, which had temporarily 
molested him, had been happily arranged ; and he be- 
held, w T ith hallowed and untroubled joy, the glorious 
institution, whose light, during thirty years, had glad- 
dened his heart and illumined his path, emerge from the 
clouds which had awhile obscured its progress, — 

* Repair its golden flood, 
And cheer the nations with redoubled ray/ 

"Lord Teignmouth predicted, as if conscious of the 
exact amount of his remaining strength, the day of his 
decease, about a week previous to its occurrence, and 
gave particular directions respecting his funeral. Ap- 
prehensions of death, which had occasionally proved a 
trial to his faith, had entirely ceased as its approach 
became obvious. Nor did increasing debility induce 
remissness in the discharge of any of his duties to him- 
self or his survivors. His affection toward the members 
of his family and his kindred, present or abroad, was 
overflowing ; while he unceasingly addressed to all, in- 
cluding his servants, the language of a devout, rejoicing, 
and grateful heart. His end was evidently approaching. 



270 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

He was full of sweetness, and full of thankfulness to 
God and all around him. At seven in the morning, he 
took what might be termed a hearty breakfast. Charles 
afterward placed him comfortably in his bed; and in 
that very position he fell asleep in Jesus at half-past 
nine, (Feb. 14, 1834.) 

" It was the observation of one who had lived for some 
years in his immediate neighbourhood, that Lord Teign- 
mouth always reminded him of one of the ancient pa- 
triarchs ; and assuredly, when I recall all that I have 
been privileged to witness since the first hour of my 
acquaintance with this beloved and venerated nobleman, 
I feel that I am only endeavouring to describe the im- 
pression produced on my mind when I say that he lived 
a patriarch's life, that he died a patriarch's death." 

Lord Teignmouth in life exhibited the pattern of a 
character admirably chastened by devotion. In his 
death there were no transports ; it was the maturity of 
a character which had been long ripening. " When the 
fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the 
sickle, because the harvest is come." 



7. JOSEPH ADDISON. 

" Death is the crown of life ! 
It wounds to cure ; we fall, we rise, we reign! 
Spring from our fetters, fasten in the skies, 
Where blooming Eden withers in our sight. 
Death gives us more than was in Eden lost ; 
This king of terrors is the prince of peace." — YauNG. 

Joseph Addison, a celebrated English writer, was born 
at Milston, in Wiltshire, in the year 1672. About the 
age of fifteen, he was entered at Queen's College, Ox- 
ford, where, by his fine parts and great application, he 
made a surprising proficiency in classical learning. 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 271 

Before he left the university he was warmly solicited 
to enter into orders ; and he once resolved to do so : 
but his great modesty, and an uncommonly delicate 
sense of the importance of the sacred function, made 
him afterward alter his resolution. 

He was highly respected by many of the greatest, 
and the most learned of his contemporaries. He tra- 
velled into Italy, where he made many useful observa- 
tions, and prepared materials for some of his literary 
works. On his return to England he was chosen one 
of the lords' commissioners for trade. In 1709 he was 
appointed secretary to the lord-lieutenant of Ireland ; 
and in 1717, was advanced to the high office of secretary 
of state. 

The writings of Addison are among the finest speci- 
mens of the English classics, and have been of great use 
to the world. The following portraiture of his character 
as a writer is from the pen of Dr. Johnson : — 

" He employed wit on the side of virtue and religion. 
He not only made the proper use of wit himself, but 
taught it to others; and, from his time, it has been 
generally subservient to the cause of reason and truth. 
He has dissipated the prejudice that had long connected 
cheerfulness with vice, and easiness of manners with 
laxity of principles. He has restored virtue to its dig- 
nity, and taught innocence not to be ashamed. This is 
an elevation of literary character, above all Greek, above 
all Roman, fame. As a teacher of wisdom, he may be 
confidently followed. His religion has nothing in it 
enthusiastic or superstitious ; he appears neither weakly 
credulous nor wantonly sceptical ; his morality is neither 
dangerously lax nor impracticably rigid. All the en- 
chantment of fancy, and all the cogency of argument, 
are employed to recommend to the reader his real inte- 
rest — the care of pleasing the Author of his being." 

In the following lines he expresses the complacency 



272 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

with which he looked forward towards another life : — 
" The prospect of a future state is the secret comfort 
and refreshment of my soul. It is that which makes 
nature look cheerful about me ; it doubles all my plea- 
sures, and supports me under all my afflictions. I can 
look at disappointments and misfortunes, pain and sick- 
ness, death itself, with indifference, so long as I keep in 
view the pleasures of eternity, and the state of being in 
which there will be no fears nor apprehensions, pains 
or sorrows." 

The virtue of this excellent man shone brightest at the 
point of death. After a long and manly, but vain struggle 
with -his distempers, he dismissed his physicians, and 
with them all hopes of life ; but, with his hopes of life, 
he dismissed not his concern for the living. He sent 
for Lord Warwick, a youth nearly related to him, and 
finely accomplished, but irregular in conduct and prin- 
ciple, an whom his pious instructions and example had 
not produced the desired effect. 

Lord Warwick came : but life now glimmering in the 
socket, the dying friend was silent. After a decent and 
proper pause, the youth said, " Dear sir, you senb for 
me, I believe, and hope you have some commands : I 
shall hold them most dear." 

May the reader not only feel the reply, but retain its 
impression ! Forcibly grasping the youth's hand, 
Addison softly said, " See in what peace a Christian 
can die!" 

He spoke with difficulty, and soon expired. Through 
Divine grace, how great is man! Through Divine 
mercy, how stingless death ! 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. , 273 



8. GEORGE MOIR. 

♦The last end 
Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit ! 
Night-dews fall not more gently to the ground, 
Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft." — Blair. 

This excellent Scottish Christian was little known in 
the world ; but as his life had been devoted to God, so 
his death eminently displayed the power of the Gospel 
and the triumph of faith over the last enemy. After 
having been long worn by painful illness, his wife told 
him that the change of his countenance indicated the 
speedy approach of death. "Does it?" he asked. 
"Bring me a glass." On looking at himself, he was 
struck with the dying appearance which he saw in his 
face; but giving the glass back, he said, with a calm 
satisfaction, " Ah, death has set his mark on my body, 
but Christ has set his mark on my soul." 



9. JOHN HOLLAND. 

" Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, 
Who stand upon the threshold of the new."— Waller. 

The striking account of the death of this excellent per- 
son is most of the information that now remains respect- 
ing him. 

The day before he died he called for his Bible, say- 
ing, "Come, come! death approaches ; let us gather 
some flowers to comfort this hour !" 

He then turned to the eighth chapter of Romans, 
which he desired a person in the room to read ; and at 
the end of every verse commented upon it in a manner 

12* 



274 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

suited to promote his own comfort, and which excited 
the joy and wonder of his friends. He continued this 
sacred employment for as much as two hours, when, on 
a sudden, he said, " stay your reading. What 
brightness is this I see? Have you lighted up any 
candles ?" 

To which Mr. Leigh, who had been reading, answer- 
ed, " No ; it is the sunshine." 

"Sunshine?" said he; "nay, my Saviour's shine. 
Now, farewell, world; welcome, heaven. The Day-star 
from on high hath visited my heart. speak it when 
I am gone, and preach it at my funeral, God dealeth 
familiarly with man ! I feel his mercy ; I see his ma- 
jesty : whether in the body, or out of the body, I can- 
not tell, — God knoweth; but I see things that are 
unutterable." 

He continued for some time speaking with a cheerful 
look, and a soft, sweet voice, though his friends could 
not understand what he spoke. At last, shrinking 
down, he sighed, and said, " Ah, yet it will not be. My 
sins keep me from my God." 

Not long, however, was he denied the happiness he 
sought. On the following morning he closed his life 
with these words upon his lips : — " what a happy 
change shall I make ! From death to life ! from sorrow 
to solace ! from a factious world to a heavenly being ! 
0, my dear brethren, sisters, and friends, it pitieth me 
to leave you behind. Yet remember my death when I 
am gone ; and what I now feel, I hope you shall find 
ere you die, that God doth, and will deal familiarly with 
men. And now, thou fiery chariot, that earnest down 
to fetch up Elijah, carry me to my happy hold ! And 
all ye blessed angels, who attended the soul of Lazarus 
to heaven, bear me, bear me into the bosom of my 
best Beloved ! Amen, amen ! Come, Lord Jesus, come 
quickly !" 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 275 



10. BOERHAAVE. 

Herman Boerhaave, one of the greatest physicians, 
and best of men, was born in Holland, in the year 1668. 
This illustrious person, whose name has been spread 
throughout the world, and who left, at his death, above 
two hundred thousand pounds sterling, was, at his first 
setting out in life, obliged to teach the mathematics to 
obtain a necessary support. His abilities, industry, 
and great merit, soon gained him friends, placed him in 
easy circumstances, and enabled him to be bountiful to 
others. 

As soon as he rose in the morning, it was, through 
life, his daily practice to retire for an hour for private 
prayer and meditation. This, he often told his friends, 
gave him spirit and vigour in the business of the day; 
and this he therefore commended as the best rule of 
life : for nothing, he knew, can support the soul in all 
distresses but confidence in the supreme Being ; nor can 
a steady and rational magnanimity flow from any other 
source than a consciousness of the Divine favour. 

He asserted, on all occasions, the Divine authority 
of the Holy Scriptures. The excellency of the Chris- 
tian religion was the frequent subject of his conversa- 
tion. A strict obedience to the doctrine, and a diligent 
imitation of the example, of our blessed Saviour, he 
often declared to be the foundation of true tranquillity. 
He was liberal to the distressed, but without ostentation. 
He often obliged his friends in such a manner that they 
knew not, unless by accident, to whom they were in- 
debted. He was condescending to all, and particularly 
attentive in his profession. He used to say, that the 
life of a patient, if trifled with or neglected, would one 
day be required at the hand of the physician. He 



276 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

called the poor his best patients ; for God, said he, is 
their paymaster. In conversation, he was cheerful and 
instructive, and desirous of promoting every valuable 
end of social intercourse. He never regarded calumny 
and detraction, (for Boerhaave himself had enemies ;) 
nor ever thought it necessary to confute them. " They 
are sparks,'' said he, " which, if you do not blow them, 
will go out of themselves. The surest remedy against 
scandal, is, to live it down by perseverance in well-doing, 
and by praying to God that he would cure the distem- 
pered minds of those who traduce and injure us." 

About the middle of the year 1737 he felt the first 
approaches of that lingering disorder which at length 
brought him to the grave. During this afflictive illness 
his constancy and firmness did not forsake him. He 
neither intermitted the necessary cares of life nor forgot 
the proper preparations for death. 

He related to a friend, with great concern, that once 
his patience so far gave way to extremity of pain that, 
after having lain fifteen hours in exquisite tortures, he 
prayed to God that he might be set free by death. His 
friend, by way of consolation, answered, that he thought 
such wishes, when forced by continued and excessive 
torments, unavoidable in the present state of human 
nature; that the best men, even Job himself, were not 
able to refrain from such starts of impatience. This he 
did not deny, but said, " He that loves God ought to 
think nothing desirable but what is most pleasing to the 
Supreme Goodness." 

Such were his sentiments, and such his conduct, in 
this state of weakness and pain. As death advanced 
nearer, he was so far from terror or confusion, that he 
seemed even less sensible of pain, and more cheerful 
under his torments. He died, much honoured and la- 
mented, in the seventieth year of his age. 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. . 277 



11. SIR MATTHEW HALE. 

Sir Matthew Hale, lord chief-justice of England, 
was born in Gloucestershire, in the year 1609. Before 
he was six years old he lost both his parents ; but, by 
the care of a judicious guardian, great attention was 
paid to his education. When he had completed his 
studies at Oxford he quitted the university, with an 
intention of going into the army ; but, on the persuasion 
of Sergeant Glanvill, he entered at Lincoln's Inn, and 
with great vigour, and almost unexampled application, 
bent his mind to the studies of his profession. 

In early life he was fond of company, and fell into 
many levities and extravagancies. But this propensity 
and conduct were corrected by a circumstance that 
made a considerable impression on his mind during the 
rest of his life. Being one day in company with other 
young men, one of the party, through excess of wine, 
fell down apparently dead at their feet. Young Hale 
was so affected on this occasion that he immediately 
retired to another room, and, shutting the door, fell on 
his knees, and prayed earnestly to God that his friend 
might be restored to life, and that he himself might be 
pardoned for having given countenance to so much 
excess. At the same time, he made a solemn vow that 
he would never again keep company in that manner, 
nor "drink a health" while he lived. His friend re- 
covered, and Hale religiously observed his vow. After 
this event there was an entire change in his disposition : 
he forsook all dissipated company, and was careful to 
divide his time between the duties of religion and the 
studies of his profession. He became remarkable for a 
grave and exemplary deportment, great moderation of 
temper, and a religious tenderness of spirit ; and these 



278 



DEATH-BED SCENES. 



[PART I. 



virtues appear to have accompanied him through the 
whole of his life. 

This eminent and virtuous man possessed uninter- 
rupted health till near the sixty- sixth year of his age. 
At this period he was affected with an indisposition, 
which, in a short time, greatly impaired his strength ; 
and he found himself so unfit to discharge the duty of 
justice of the king's bench that he was obliged to resign 
the office. " He continued, however," says Bishop Bur- 
net, " to retire frequently for his devotions and studies. 
As long as he could go himself he went regularly to his 
retirement ; and when his infirmities increased, so that 
he was not able to walk to the place, he made his ser- 
vants carry him thither in a chair. At last, as the 
winter came on, he saw, with great joy, his deliverance 
approaching ; for besides his being weary of the world, 
and his longings for the blessedness of another state, 
his pains increased so much that no patience inferior to 
his could have borne them without great uneasiness of 
mind. Yet he expressed, to the last, such submission 
to the will of God, and so equal a temper, that the power- 
ful effects of Christianity were evident in the support 
which he derived from it under so heavy a load. 

"He continued to enjoy the free use of his reason 
and senses to the latest moment of life. This he had 
often and earnestly prayed for during his last sickness. 
When his voice was so sunk that he could not be heard, 
his friends perceived, by the almost constant lifting up 
of his eyes and hands, that he was still aspiring toward 
that blessed state, of which he was now to be speedily 
possessed. He had no struggles, nor seemed to be in 
any pangs in his last moments. He breathed out his 
righteous and pious soul in peace." 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. . 279 



12. JOHN LOCKE. 

John Locke, a very celebrated philosopher, and one of 
the greatest men that England ever produced, was born 
in the year 1632. He was well educated ; and apply- 
ing himself with vigour to his studies, his mind became 
enlarged, and stored with much useful knowledge. He 
went abroad as secretary to the English ambassador at 
several of the G erman courts ; and afterwards had the 
offer of being made envoy at the court of the emperor, 
or of any other that he chose ; but he declined the pro- 
posal on account of the infirm state of his health. He 
was a commissioner of trade and plantations, in which 
station he very honourably distinguished himself. Not- 
withstanding his public employments, he found leisure 
to write much for the benefit of mankind. His " Essay 
on Human Understanding," his " Discourses on Govern- 
ment," and his " Letters on Toleration," are justly held 
in high estimation. 

This enlightened man, and profound reasoner, was 
most firmly attached to the Christian religion. His 
zeal to promote it appeared, first, in his middle age, by 
publishing a discourse to demonstrate the reasonable- 
ness of believing Jesus to be the promised Messiah, and 
afterward, in the latter part of his life, by a very judi- 
oious Commentary on several of the Epistles of the 
apostle Paul. The sacred Scriptures are everywhere 
mentioned by him with the greatest reverence ; and he 
exhorts Christians " to betake themselves in earnest to 
the study of the way to salvation in those holy writings, 
wherein God has revealed it from heaven, and proposed 
it to the world, seeking our religion where we are sure 
it is in truth to be found, comparing spiritual things 
with spiritual." 



280 



DEATH-BED SCENES. 



[PART I. 



In a letter, written the year before his death, to a 
person who asked this question, " What is the shortest 
and surest way for a young man to attain the true know- 
ledge of the Christian religion?" he says, "Let him 
study the Holy Scriptures, especially the New Testa- 
ment. Therein are contained the words of eternal life. 
It has God for its author; salvation for its end; and 
truth, without any mixture of error, for its matter." 
This advice was conformable to his own practice. 
"For fourteen or fifteen years he applied himself, in 
an especial manner, to the study of the Scriptures, and 
employed the last years of his life hardly in anything 
else. He was never weary of admiring the great views 
of that sacred book, and the just relation of all its 
parts ; he every day made discoveries in it, that gave 
him fresh cause of admiration." 

The summer before his death he began to be very 
sensible of his approaching dissolution. He often spoke 
of it, and always with great composure. A short time 
before his decease he declared to a friend that " he was 
in the sentiments of perfect charity towards all men, and 
of a sincere union with the Church of Christ, under 
whatever name distinguished." 

The day before his death, Lady Masham being alone 
with him, and sitting by his bedside, he exhorted her to 
regard this world only as a state of preparation for a 
better, adding, that "he had lived long enough, and 
thanked God for having passed his days so comfortably; 
but that this life appeared to him mere vanity." 

Being told that, if he chose it, the whole family should 
be with him in his chamber, he said he should be very 
glad to have it so if it would not give too much trouble ; 
and an occasion offering to speak of the goodness of 
God, he especially exalted the care which God showed 
to man in justifying him by faith in Jesus Christ; 
and, in particular, returned God thanks for having 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 281 

blessed him with the knowledge of the Divine Sa- 
viour. 

About two months before his death he wrote a letter 
to his friend, Anthony Collins, and left this direction 
upon it : " To be delivered to him after my decease." 
It concludes with the following remarkable words : — 

" May you live long and happy in the enjoyment of 
health, freedom, content, and all those blessings which 
Providence has bestowed on you, and to which your 
virtue entitles you ! Tou loved me living, and will pre- 
serve my memory when I am dead. All the use to be 
made of it is, that this life is a scene of vanity, which 
soon passes away, and affords no solid satisfaction but 
in the consciousness of doing well, and in the hopes of 
another life. This is what I can say upon experience, 
and what you will find to be true when you come to 
make up the account. Adieu." 

The following extract from a letter written by Lady 
Masham, deserves a place among the testimonies re- 
specting this distinguished and excellent man : — 

" You will not, perhaps, dislike to know that the last 
scene of Mr. Locke's life was not less admirable than 
anything else concerning him. All the faculties of his 
mind were perfect to the last. His weakness, of which 
only he died, made such gradual and visible advances, 
that few people, I think, do so sensibly see death ap- 
proach them as he did. During all this time, no one 
could observe the least alteration in his humour — always 
cheerful, conversable, civil ; to the last day thoughtful 
of all the concerns of his friends, and omitting no fit 
occasion of giving Christian advice to all about him. 
In short, his death was, like his life, truly pious ; yet 
natural, easy, and unaffected. Time, 1 think, can never 
produce a more eminent example of reason and religion 
than he was, both living and dying." 



282 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



13. JOSEPH HARDCASTLE. 

The name of Joseph Hardeastle is well known to the 
friends of missions, in consequence of his having been, 
for many years, treasurer of the London Missionary 
Society. Divine grace led him to embrace religion in 
early life ; and he died cheered by its supports, in the 
sixty- seventh year of his age. The venerable minister 
who preached his funeral sermon, records the following 
expressions, which dropped from his dying lips, in the 
concluding scene of a life of benevolence and piety : — 

"Lord Jesus, thou hast said, 'He that believeth in 
me shall never die; and he that believeth, though he 
were dead, yet shall he live.' I believe this ; I believe 
I shall never know what death is, but pass into life. 

" Thou hast said, ' Him that cometh to me I will in 
no wise cast out.' I come to thee ; thou wilt not cast 
me out. 

" Surely goodness and mercy have followed me all 
the days of my life, and I am going to dwell in the 
house of the Lord forever. I am infinitely indtebted to 
Him for his conduct of me from infancy to the end of 
my life. He took me by the hand in a wonderful man- 
ner, and brought me into connexion with the excellent 
of the earth. Most gracious God, I commit my off- 
spring to thee; and I charge my children to walk in 
thy fear and love. 

" He has drawn me with the cords of mercy from my 
earliest days. He gave me very early impressions of 
religion, and enabled me to devote myself to Him in 
early life ; and this God is my God forever and ever — 
forever and ever. I said to him, when a young man, 
' Thou shalt guide me by thy counsel, and afterward 
receive me to glory.' ' Whom have I in heaven but 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 283 

thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire besides 
thee.' 

" No principle can enter the mind so sublime as the 
doctrine of the cross, which, with infinite majesty, 
speaks peace in heaven, on earth, and throughout the 
universe. Let every one of my children glory in the 
cross of salvation. It is the power of God to every 
one that believeth — the power of God! What feeble 
ideas do I attach to such expressions ! 

" I am in some respects like the old patriarch Jacob, 
on his dying bed, with all his sons about him. Live in 
love, and the God of love will be with you. This is 
my last farewell ; this is our last interview till we meet 
in a better world. My flesh and heart are failing; I 
hope I have not been deceiving myself. My children, 
seek for an interest in Christ — seek for an interest in 
Christ. I earnestly exhort you to be decided, and to 
be very useful. He is your best Friend ; manifest your 
regard for Him to the world; avow your attachment; 
be not ashamed of him — he is the glory and ornament 
of the universe. 

" I hope I shall be favoured, when my spirit is de- 
parting, with some intimations of approaching glory; 
but I will trust in Him — I will trust in Him. In the 
mean time, I possess a sweet peace, calm and undis- 
turbed. I will go to God, my exceeding joy, as the 
Psalmist says. It is an awful thing for a human spirit, 
deeply depraved as it is, to appear before the tribunal 
of so mighty a Being. He placeth no trust in his ser- 
vants. The heavens are not clean in his sight. 

" If I am to live, I welcome life, and thank its Giver ; 
if I am to die, I welcome death, and thank its Con- 
queror. If I have a choice, I would rather depart and 
be with Christ, which is far better. 

" My last act of faith I wish to be, to take the blood 
of Jesus, as the high priest did when he entered behind 



284 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

the veil; and when I have passed the veil, to appear 
with it before the throne. 

" I have just finished my course : I hope also I may 
say, ' I have fought a good fight, I have kept the faith ; 
henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteous- 
ness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give 
me at that day.' 

" Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit ! Lord 
Jesus, receive my spirit when it leaves the body ! Thou 
hast redeemed it ; I have waited for thy salvation." He 
died March 3, 1819. 



14. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 

"Through nature's wreck, through vanquish'd agonies, 
(Like stars struggling through this midnight gloom,) 
What gleams of joy ! What more than human peace !" — Young. 

Sir Walter Raleigh, an illustrious Englishman, of 
an ancient family in Devonshire, was born in 1552. He 
was a man of admirable parts, extensive knowledge, un- 
daunted resolution, and strict honour and honesty. As 
a soldier, a statesman, and a scholar, he was greatly dis- 
tinguished, and was eminently useful to Queen Eliza- 
beth, w r ho protected and encouraged him in the various 
enterprises which he projected. He was the discoverer 
of Virginia, and took effectual measures for the settle- 
ment of the country, and for promoting its prosperity. 

His active enterprises against the Spaniards, both in 
Europe and South America, excited the particular 
enmity of the court of Spain, which used every means 
to effect his destruction. During the reign of Elizabeth, 
these machinations were fruitless ; but on the accession 
of James I., Sir Walter lost his interest at court, was 
stripped of his employments, and unjustly accused and 
condemned for a plot against the king. He was after- 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. . 285 

ward trusted by James with a commission of considera- 
ble importance; and thus virtually pardoned for all 
supposed offences. The malice of his enemies, how- 
ever, at length prevailed against him, and he was pusil- 
lanimously sacrificed to appease the Spaniards, who, 
whilst Raleigh lived, thought every part of their do- 
minions in danger. 

During his imprisonment, and with the prospect of 
death before him, he wrote the following letters to his 
son, and to his wife. They contain many solemn and 
affecting admonitions, and testify the influence of religion 
on his mind. 

In the letter to his son, he says : " My son, let my 
experienced advice, and fatherly instructions, sink deep 
into thy heart. Seek not riches basely, nor attain them 
by evil means. Destroy no man for his wealth, nor take 
anything from the poor ; for the cry thereof will pierce 
the heavens, and it is most detestable before God, and 
most dishonourable before worthy men, to wrest any- 
thing from the needy and labouring soul. God will 
never prosper thee, if thou offendest therein. Use thy 
poor neighbours and tenants well. Have compassion on 
the poor and afflicted, and God will bless thee for it. 
Make not the hungry soul sorrowful ; for if he curse 
thee in the bitterness of his soul, his prayer shall be 
heard of him that made him. 

" Now, for the world, dear child, I know it too well to 
persuade thee to dive into the practices of it ; rather 
stand upon thy guard against all those that tempt thee 
to it, or may practice upon thee, whether in thy con- 
science, thy reputation, or thy estate. Be assured that 
no man is wise or safe, but he that is honest. Serve 
God ; let him be the author of all thy actions. Com- 
mend all thy endeavours to him, that must either wither 
or prosper them,. Please him with prayer ; lest, if he 
frown, he confound all thy fortune and labour, like the 



286 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

drops of rain upon the sandy ground. So God direct 
thee in all thy ways, and fill thy heart with his 
grace !" 

The following is a copy of the letter to his wife : — 
" You will receive, my dear wife, my last words in 
these my last lines. My love I send you, which you 
may keep when I am dead ; and my counsel, that you 
may remember it, when I am no more. 1 would not, 
with my will, present you sorrows, dear wife ; let them 
go to the grave with me, and be buried in the dust : and 
seeing that it is not the will of God that I shall see you 
any more, bear my destruction patiently, and with a 
heart like yourself. First, I send you all the thanks 
which my heart can conceive, or my words express, for 
your many travails and cares for me : for though they 
have not taken effect, as you wished, yet my debt to you 
is not the less ; but pay it I never shall in this world. 
Secondly, I beseech you, for the love you bear me living, 
that you do not hide yourself many days ; but by your 
travails seek to help my miserable fortunes, and the 
right of your poor child : your mourning cannot avail 
me, who am but dust. Thirdly, you shall understand, 
that my lands were conveyed, bona fide, to my child ; 
the writings were drawn at midsummer was a twelve- 
month, as divers can witness. I trust my blood will 
quench their malice who desired my slaughter, and that 
they will not seek to kill you and yours with extreme 
poverty. 

"To what friend to direct you, I know not; for all 
mine have left me in the true time of trial. Most sorry 
am I, that, being surprised by death, I can leave you no 
better estate ; God hath prevented all my determina- 
tions — that great God, who worketh all in all. If you 
can live free from want, care for no more, for the rest is 
but vanity. Love God, and begin betimes ; in him you 
will find true and endless comfort : when you have trav- 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 287 

ailed and wearied yourself with all sorts of worldly 
cogitations, you will sit down with sorrow in the end. 
Teach your son also to serve and fear God whilst he is 
young, that the fear of God may grow up in him : then 
will God be a husband to you, and a father to him — a 
husband and a father that can never be taken from you. 

" Dear wife, I beseech you, for my soul's sake, pay all 
poor men. When I am dead, no doubt you will be 
much sought unto, for the world thinks I was very rich. 
Have a care of the fair pretences of men ; for no greater 
misery can befall you in this life, than to become a prey 
unto the world, and afterwards to be despised. As for 
me, I am no more yours, nor you mine ; death has cut 
us asunder, and God has divided me from the world, and 
you from me. Remember your poor child, for his 
father's sake, who loved you in his happiest estate. I 
sued for my life ; but, God knows, it was for you and 
yours, that I desired it : for know it, my dear wife, your 
child is the child of a true man, who in his own respect 
despiseth death, and his mis-shapen and ugly forms. I 
cannot write much : God knows how hardly I steal this 
time, when all are asleep ; and it is also time for me to 
separate my thoughts from the world. Beg my dead 
body, which living was denied you, and either lay it in 
Sherborne, or in Exeter church, by my father and 
mother. 

" I can say no more ; time and death call me away. 
The everlasting God, powerful, infinite, and inscrutable; 
God Almighty, who is goodness itself, the true light and 
life, keep you and yours, and have mercy upon me, and 
forgive my persecutors and false accusers, and send us 
to meet in his glorious kingdom ! My dear wife, fare- 
well ! bless my boy ; pray for me ; and may my true 
God hold you both in his arms ! 

" Yours that was, but not now mine own. 

"Walter Raleigh." 



288 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

He was executed in Old Palace Yard, in the sixty- 
sixth year of his age. His behaviour on the scaffold 
was manly, unaffected, and even cheerful. Being asked 
by the executioner which way he would lay his head, he 
answered : " So the heart be right, it is no matter which 
way the head lies." 



15. LOUIS IX., KING OF FRANCE. 

Louis IX., styled St. Louis, succeeded to the crown of 
France, in the year 1226. This king possessed great 
wisdom, piety, and virtue. His reputation for candour 
and justice was so great, that the barons of England, as 
well as king Henry III., consented to make him umpire 
of the differences which subsisted between them. Fen- 
elon says of this patriotic prince : " He was distinguished 
by the nobleness of his sentiments; he was without 
haughtiness, presumption, or severity. In every respect, 
he attended to the real interests of his country, of which 
he was as truly the father as the king. 

An abhorrence of sin was so deeply impressed upon 
his mind, by a religious education, that he not only pre- 
served it through the course of his life, but was zealous 
to inculcate it upon others. He was very solicitous that 
his children should be trained up in the fear and admo- 
nition of the Lord ; and used to devote a considerable 
part of his time to their religious instruction. He often 
related to them the punishments which the pride, the 
avarice, and the debauchery of princes, brought upon 
themselves and their people. 

In his last sickness, he earnestly exhorted Philip, his 
son and successor, firmly to adhere to religion, in his 
own private life and conduct, and zealously to promote 
it among his subjects. He also strongly recommended 
to him justice, moderation, and all the virtues becoming 



SEC. HI.] CHRISTIAN MEN. . 289 

a sovereign and a Christian. He strictly enjoined him 
never to suffer any one, in his presence, to speak disre- 
spectfully of the Almighty, or of those devoted to his 
service; or to utter a word, tending, in the smallest 
degree, to countenance a crime. " God," said he, " grant 
you grace, my son, to do his will continually, so that he 
may be glorified by your means, and that we may be 
with him after this life, and praise him eternally." 

His dying advice to his daughter Isabella, Queen of 
Navarre, was also very expressive of his zeal for the 
cause of religion, and his solicitude for the welfare of 
his children. He wrote to her as follows : — 

" My dear daughter, I conjure you to love our Lord 
with all your might; for this is the foundation of all 
goodness. No one is so worthy to be loved. Well may 
we say, ' Lord, thou art our God, and our goods are no- 
thing to thee.' It was the Lord who sent his Son upon 
earth, and delivered him over to death for our salvation. 
If you love him, my daughter, the advantage will be 
yours ; and be assured that you can never love and serve 
him too much. He has well deserved that we should 
love him ; for he first loved us. I wish you could com- 
prehend what the Son of God has done for our redemp- 
tion. My daughter, be very desirous to know how you 
may best please the Lord ; and bestow all your care to 
avoid everything that may displease him. But particu- 
larly, never be guilty of any deliberate sin, though it 
were to save your life. Take pleasure in hearing God 
reverently spoken of, both in sermons and in private 
conversation. Shun too familiar discourse, except with 
very virtuous persons. Obey, my daughter, your hus- 
band, your father, and your mother, in the Lord; you 
are bound to do so, both for their sakes, and for the sake 
of him who has commanded it. In what is contrary to 
the glory of God, you owe obedience to none. Endea- 
vour, my daughter, to be an example of goodness to all 

Id 



290 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

who may see you, and to all who may hear of you. Be 
not too nice about dress ; if you have too many clothes, 
give them away in charity. Beware also of having an 
excessive care of your furniture. Aspire after a dispo- 
sition to do the will of God, purely for his sake, inde- 
pendently of the hope of reward, or the fear of punish- 
ment." 

Thus did this prince teach his children ; and thus did 
he live himself. He died in great tranquillity, in the 
year 1270. 

16. BLAISE PASCAL. 

Blaise Pascal was born at Clermont, in France, in the 
year 1623. Nature endowed him with extraordinary 
powers of mind, which were highly cultivated. He was 
an eminent philosopher, a profound reasoner, and a sub- 
lime and elegant writer. We raise his character still 
higher, when we say, he was a man of most exemplary 
piety and virtue. The celebrated Bayle, speaking of 
this distinguished person, says : " A hundred volumes 
of religious discourses, are not of so much avail to con- 
found the impious, as a simple account of the life of 
Pascal. His humility and his devotion mortify the 
libertines more than if they were attacked by a dozen 
missionaries. They can no longer assert, that piety is 
confined to men of little minds, when they behold the 
highest degree of it in a geometrician of the first rank, 
and most acute metaphysician, and one of the most 
penetrating minds that ever existed." 

The humility and simplicity of heart for which he 
was always remarkable, seemed to increase as he ap- 
proached his end. A person who frequently visited him 
in his last sickness, said of him : " He is a child : he is 
humble; he submits like a little child." One of his 
particular friends, who had spent an hour with him, and 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 291 

had been much edified by his meek and pious example, 
thus expressed himself to his sister : " You may, indeed, 
be comforted. If God should call him hence, you have 
abundant cause to praise that gracious Being for the 
favours which he has conferred upon him. I always 
very much admired his great qualities, but I never before 
observed that extraordinary simplicity which I have just 
now witnessed; it is wonderful in such a mind as he 
possesses. I most cordially wish that I were in his 
situation." 

His last words were : " May God never forsake me !" 
and he died full of peace and hope. 



17. LOUIS, DUKE OF ORLEANS. 

Louis, duke of Orleans, first prince of the blood royal 
of France, and highly distinguished for piety and learn- 
ing, was born at Versailles, in the year 1703. He was 
the son of Philip, duke of Orleans, regent of France, and 
of Mary Frances of Bourbon. He discovered, in his 
very childhood, a reverence for religion, a shining 
genius, and an enlarged understanding. At an early 
age he became sensible of the vanity of titles, pre-emi- 
nence, and all the splendour of life. He proposed to 
himself a new mode of conduct, which he afterwards 
pursued, dividing his time between the duties peculiar 
to his rank, the exercises of a Christian, and the studies 
which improve the mind. He was, in every respect, a 
pattern of self-denial, of piety, and of virtue. 

His religion was not merely contemplative, for he 
possessed a most extensive charity, and an enlightened 
zeal for the public good. The indigent of every age, sex, 
and condition, excited his compassionate regard. He 
daily heard their complaints, in one of the halls of the 
convent of St. Genevieve ; he sympathized with them, 



292 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

he alleviated their distresses. "When it was not in his 
power to dismiss them entirely satisfied, his heart seemed 
to grant what necessity obliged him^to refuse. It is 
hardly to be imagined what sums this pious prince ex- 
pended, in placing children for education in colleges and 
nunneries, in portioning young women, endowing nuns, 
putting boys apprentices, or purchasing for them their 
freedom; in setting up unfortunate tradesmen in busi- 
ness again, and preventing the ruin of others ; in restor- 
ing and supporting noblemen's families, in relieving the 
sick, and paying surgeons for their attendance on them. 
Very often accompanied by a single servant, he sought 
after poor persons, in chambers and garrets, and kindly 
administered to their wants. He made great improve- 
ments in physic, agriculture, arts, and manufactures. 
He purchased, and published, a variety of useful reme- 
dies. His gardens were filled with medicinal plants of 
all sorts, brought from the most distant climates. 

The delight he found in piety and devotion, he used 
thus to express : " I know, by experience, that sublunary 
grandeur and sublunary pleasure are delusive and vain, 
and are always infinitely below the conceptions we form 
of them ; but, on the contrary, such happiness and such 
complacency may be found in devotion and piety as the 
sensual mind has no idea of." 

In his last illness, perceiving that death was approach- 
ing, he prepared for it with the greatest fortitude and 
composure, and spoke of it, as of the demise of another 
person. In his will, he expatiated, in the most pathetic 
manner, on his belief in the resurrection. 

At the concluding period of life, his mind seemed 
filled with the love of God, and he implored, with the 
utmost earnestness, the Divine blessing for his son, the 
duke of Chatrel " I have a son," said he to the minis- 
ter who attended him, " whom I am going to commend 
to the all-perfect Being. I entreat God that his natural 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 293 

virtues may become Christian graces ; that the qualities 
which gain him esteem, may be servicable to his salva- 
tion; that his love for the king, and his love for me, 
may be the blossoms of that immortal charity, which the 
holy spirits and blessed angels enjoy." 

Thus died this truly Christian prince, in the forty- 
ninth year of his age. 



18. SIR THOMAS FOWELL BUXTON. 

Sir Thomas Fowbll Buxton was intimately associated 
with Mr. Wilberforce in his noble efforts for the emanci- 
pation of the slave, and caught his mantle as he ascended 
to glory. He was in every respect a man of firm pur- 
pose and the most extended benevolence — prompt at 
every call of public need — one of the most self-denying 
and exalted benefactors of society. 

" While reduced to the lowest state of weakness, he 
was full of the spirit of gratitude, and continually poured 
forth fervent thanksgiving 'for pardon given and re- 
deeming love.' His prayers were earnest for ; the gift 
of the most Holy Spirit, and the removal of all clouds, 
that he might come to Christ, under humiliation, suffer- 
ing, and infirmity, and find strength and consolation in 
Him.' 

(i On Sunday, January 21st, he broke forth, with much 
energy of voice and manner, in these words, ' God, 
God, can it be that there is good reason to believe that 
such an one as I shall be remembered amongst the just ? 
Is thy mercy able to contain even me ? From my heart 
I give thee most earnest thanksgivings for this and for 
all thy mercies.' " 

Mr. J. J. Gurney, who did not long survive his co- 
adjutor in his many schemes of benevolence, thus speaks 
of his posture of mind : " It was almost, if not entirely 



294 -" DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

a painless illness. Nothing could be more quiet and 
comfortable than the sick room, with an easy access to 
all who were nearly connected with him. Never was a 
Christian believer more evidently rooted and grounded 
in his Saviour — never was the Christian's hope more 
evidently ' an anchor to the soul, both sure and stead- 
fast.' 

" On my remarking to him that I perceived he had a 
firm hold on Christ, he replied, in a clear, emphatic 
manner, ' Yes, indeed I have ! — unto eternal life !' After 
a long- continued state of torpor, he revived surprisingly. 
Just before we left him, on the 14th of February, his 
mind was lively and bright, as 'a morning without 
clouds.' While memory lasts, I can never forget his 
eager look of tenderness and affection, of love, joy, and 
peace, all combined, as he grasped my hand, and kept 
firm hold of it for a long time, on my bidding him fare- 
well, and saying to him, 'Bye hath not seen, nor ear 
heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the 
things which God hath prepared for thee, yes, for thee, 
my dearest brother.' The five days which intervened 
between our leaving him and his death, appear to have 
been tranquil ones ; with the same alternations between 
sleep long- continued and tending to torpor, and waking 
times, brief indeed, but marked by an uncommon degree 
of ease and cheerfulness." 

Thus died Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, February 19, 
1844. 

19. SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 

Sir Isaac Newton, a most celebrated English philoso- 
pher and mathematician, and one of the greatest geniuses 
that ever appeared in the world, was descended from an 
ancient family in Lincolnshire, where he was born, in 
the year 1642. His powers of mind were wonderfully 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 295 

comprehensive and penetrating. Fontenelle says of 
him, that, "In learning mathematics, he did not study 
Euclid, who seemed to him too plain and simple, and 
unworthy of taking up his time. He understood him 
almost before he read him ; a cast of his eye on the con- 
tents of the theorems of that great mathematician, seemed 
to be sufficient to make him master of them." Several 
of his works mark a profundity of thought and reflection, 
that has astonished the most learned men. He was 
highly esteemed by the university of Cambridge, and 
was twice chosen to represent that place in parliament. 
He was also greatly favoured by Queen Anne, and by 
George the First. The princess of Wales, afterwards 
queen-consort of England, who had a turn for philoso- 
phical inquiries, used frequently to propose questions to 
him. This princess had a great regard for him, and 
often declared that she thought herself happy to live at 
the same time as he did, and to have the pleasure and 
advantage of his conversation. 

This eminent philosopher was remarkable for being 
of a very meek disposition, and a great lover of peace. 
He would rather have chosen to remain in obscurity, 
than to have the serenity of his days disturbed by those 
storms and disputes which genius and learning often 
draw upon those who are eminent for them. We find 
him reflecting on the controversy respecting his optic 
lectures (in which he had been almost unavoidably en- 
gaged) in the following terms : " I blamed my own im- 
prudence, for parting with so real a blessing as my quiet, 
to run after a shadow." 

The amiable quality of modesty stands very conspicu- 
ous in the character of this great man's mind and man- 
ners. He never spoke, either of himself or others, in 
such a manner as to give the most malicious censurers 
the least occasion even to suspect him* of vanity. He 
was cftndid and affable ; and he did not assume any airs 



296 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

of superiority over those with whom he associated. He 
never thought either his merit, or his reputation, suffi- 
cient to excuse him from any of the common offices of 
social life. Though he was firmly attached to the Church 
of England, he was averse to the persecution of the Non- 
conformists. He judged of men by their conduct; and 
the true schismatics, in his opinion, w 7 ere the vicious and 
the wicked. This liberality of sentiment did not spring 
from the want of religion ; for he was thoroughly per- 
suaded of the truth of Revelation, and amidst the great 
variety of books which he had constantly before him, 
that which he loved the best, and studied with the 
greatest application, was the Bible. He was, indeed, a 
truly pious man, and his discoveries concerning the 
frame and system of the universe, were applied by him 
to demonstrate the being of a God, and to illustrate his 
power and wisdom. He also wrote an excellent dis- 
course, to prove that the remarkable prophecy of 
Daniel's weeks, was an express prediction of the com- 
ing of the Messiah, and that it was fulfilled in Jesus 
Christ, 

The testimony of the pious and learned Dr. Dod- 
dridge to the most interesting part of this great man's 
character, cannot be omitted on the present occasion. 
" According to the best information," says he, " whether 
public or private, I could ever obtain, his firm faith in 
the Divine Revelation discovered itself in the most 
genuine fruits of substantial virtue and piety, and con- 
sequently gives us the justest reason to conclude, that 
he is now rejoicing in the happy effects of it, infinitely 
more than all the applause which his philosophical works 
have procured him, though they have commanded a fame 
lasting as the world." 

The disorder of which he died, was supposed to be the 
stone in the bladder, which was, at times, attended with 
paroxysms so severe as to occasion large drops of*sweat 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. . 297 

to run down his face. In these trying circumstances, he 
was never heard to utter the least complaint, nor to ex- 
press the least impatience. He died in the eighty-fifth 
year of his age. In his principles and conduct through 
life, he has left a strong and comfortable evidence, that 
the highest intellectual powers harmonize with religion 
and virtue; and that there is nothing in Christianity 
but what will abide the scrutiny of the soundest and 
most enlarged understanding. 



20. DR. JAMES HOPE. 

Dr. James Hope was a physician in London of large 
practice. He was eminent as a Christian. Among the 
maxims which he adopted in the regulation of his pro- 
fessional life were the following: — Never to keep a 
patient longer than was absolutely necessary — never to 
receive a fee to which he was not fairly entitled — and 
always to pray for his patients. 

He rose rapidly in his profession. The poor equally 
with the rich had shared his attention. He was ac- 
tuated by the most devout desire for God's glory, and 
took every occasion in his intercourse with medical 
students to maintain the principles of revealed religion 
against materialism and infidelity. He early became a 
victim of disease. During his sickness, he removed to 
Hampstead for change of air ; and on the inquiry of Dr. 
Latham whether he felt quite happy, he said, " Perfectly 
so. I have always been a sober thinking man, and I 
could not have imagined the joy I now feel. My only 
wish is to convey it to the minds of others ; but that is 
impossible." 

Finding him much weaker, Mrs. Hope said to him, 
" 1 think that one week will do great things for you." 

"Do you think so, indeed?" said he; "very well, be 
13* 



298 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

it soon or be it late, so that I go off in such a way as not 
to frighten you." 

"I will not," he said on another occasion, "make 
speeches, but I have two things to say," — the first was a 
kind farewell to his wife ; he then added, " the second is 
soon said — Christ is all in all to me. I have no hope 
but in him. He is indeed all in all." When that pas- 
sage was quoted, " Though I walk through the valley of 
the shadow of death, I will fear no evil : for thou art 
with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me," he 
said, " They do comfort me — there is no darkness. I 
see Jordan, and the heavenly Joshua passing over dry- 
shod." His last expressions were the following: — 

"1 am going now — I shall soon sleep." 

" And you will wake again." 

" Yes ; those that sleep in Jesus will God bring with 
him." 

Remarking on the beauty of the day, Mrs. Hope said, 
" What a glorious day is dawning upon you, my dearest !" 
His assent was joyful. " There will be no sun and no 
moon there, for the Lamb will be the light thereof." 

He murmured — " Christ " — " angels " — " beautiful " 
— " magnificent " — " delightful." Soon after he said, " I 
thank God." These were his last connected words. 



21. LORD HARRINGTON. 

John, Lord Harrington possessed excellent natural 
endowments, and a considerable stock of useful learning; 
but the great concern of his mind was to become learned 
in the school of Christ, and to provide for an immortal 
inheritance. He manifested a principle of real charity 
in his heart, by his love to all who were truly religious, 
and by giving the tenth part of his yearly income to 
charitable uses. 
At the beginning of his last sickness he strongly ap* 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. . 299 

prehended that he should not recover, and therefore 
calmly prepared for death. About two hours before his 
death he declared that " he still felt the comfort and joys 
of assured salvation by Christ Jesus." And when the 
time of his departure was come, he said, " that joy! 0, 
my God, when shall I be with thee?" Thus he peace- 
fully expired, in the twenty- third year of his age. 



22. PETUMBER. 

11 He knows, and knows no more, his Bible true — 
A truth the brilliant atheist never knew ; 
And in that volume reads, with sparkling eyes, 
His title clear to mansions in the skies." 

Petumber, a native of India, was the child of idolaters, 
and was himself an idolater. In advanced life he be- 
came acquainted with the Gospel. He embraced the 
truth, afterward became a preacher of it, and died 
cheered by the hopes religion imparts. 

In his last illness, when Mr. Ward was standing by 
his bedside, the good old man broke out in such moving 
strains as the following : — " I do not attribute it to my 
own wisdom, or to my own goodness, that I became a 
Christian. It is all grace— it is all grace ! I have tried 
all means for the restoration of my health. All are 
vain: God is my only hope. Life is good — death is 
good ; but to be wholly emancipated is better." 

His patience was great. He said once or twice, " I 
am never unhappy that it is so with me : my spirits are 
always good." He would say, with a moving and child- 
like simplicity, "He is my God, and I am his child. 
He never leaves me. He is always present." Allud- 
ing to the introduction to several of the Epistles, " Grace 
be to you, and peace from God our Father, and from 
the Lord Jesus Christ," he said several times, "Peace! 
peace ! I now find in my own heart that peace." 



300 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

He entreated his wife to make Christ her refuge, that 
they might meet again in heaven. 

Within a few days of his decease he seemed to long, 
though without any signs of impatience, to depart ; and 
spoke of his removal with as much composure as though 
he was familiar with the place and company to which 
he was going. 

On the morning of his death he called the brethren to 
come and sing. While they were singing a hymn, the 
chorus of which runs, — 

" Eternal salvation through the death of Christ," 

the tears of joy ran down his dying cheeks; and at 
that blessed moment his soul departed, leaving a smile 
upon his countenance, which imparted to it so pleasant 
an aspect that at first one or two of the missionaries 
hesitated whether he was dead or not. 



23. FERRAO. 

Ferrao was an East Indian idolater, but becoming a 
convert to the Gospel, was baptized in 1811. After 
this he appeared a pious and conscientious Christian, 
and died happily, in September, 1813. 

Not long before his departure he was visited by Mr. 
Leonard, who informed him that death was nearer than 
he supposed. " On hearing this," Mr. Leonard states, 
" he fixed his eyes upon me with a mixture of tran- 
quillity and delight, and then, closing them, continued 
in a state of meditation for some time ; after which he 
said, ' The Lord is my portion ; he now supports my 
feeble frame, while death is performing its office.' Of 
himself he said, ' I am indeed the chief of sinners.' I 
then asked him how he enjoyed so much peace and 
tranquillity under such a weight of guilt, especially as 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 301 

he might now expect to appear before a sin-hating and 
a sin-punishing God in a few short moments. He re- 
plied, ' Christ has removed the heavy load ; he died that 
I might live; he bore my sins in his own body upon 
the accursed tree ; and I can now realize his presence 
in the sweet consolation I experience, and through a 
sense of his dying love, and his willingness and equal 
power to save a sinner, vile as I know myself to be.' 

"I asked him (as I was about to depart) if he felt 
disturbed at the near approach of death : he looked at 
me with a smile, and said that death had lost its sting, 
that he could now meet him with joy. I then asked 
what he wished I should pray for on his account ; whe- 
ther the Lord would continue him longer upon earth, or 
take him to himself. He replied, ' The latter. I have 
been too long from him : I can now see Him as through 
a glass darkly; but I feel the strongest desire to see 
him face to face, to be like him, and to enjoy his pre- 
sence forever.' " 

"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord!" 



24. "ME," A BLIND WARRIOR. 

The narrative given in " Williams's Missionary Enter- 
prizes in the South Sea Islands," of Me, an old blind 
warrior, is so interesting an exemplification of the 
simple power of Christ's truth as to demand insertion. 
It shows, also, that the energy of the Gospel is the same 
in all climes, and among all people : — 

" On the first Sabbath after my return I missed old 
Me, and not receiving the hearty grasp of congratulation 
from him to which I was accustomed, I inquired of one 
of the deacons where he was, when he informed me that 
he was exceedingly ill, and not expected to recover. 
I determined, therefore, to visit him immediately. On 



302 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

reaching the place of his residence, I found him lying 
in a little hut, detached from the dwelling-house ; and, 
on entering it, I addressed him, by saying, ' Me, I am 
sorry to find you so ill.' 

"Recognizing my voice, he exclaimed, 'Is it you? 
Do I really hear your voice again before I die ? I shall 
die happy now. I was afraid I should have died before 
your return.' 

" My first inquiry related to the manner in which he 
was supplied with food ; for, in their heathen state, as 
soon as old or infirm persons become a burden to their 
friends, they are put to death in a most barbarous man- 
ner. ... In reply to my question, Me stated that at 
times he suffered much from hunger. 

" 1 said, ' How so ? you have your own plantations ;' 
for, although blind, he was diligent in the cultivation of 
sweet potatoes and bananas. 

" ' Yes,' he said ; ' but as soon as I was taken ill the 
people with whom I lived seized my ground, and I am, 
at times, exceedingly in want.' 

"I then inquired what brethren visited him in his 
affliction to read and pray with him. Naming several, 
he added, ' They do not come so often as I could wish ; 
yet I am not lonely, for 1 have frequent visits from 
God. God and I were talking when you came in.' 

" 'Well,' I said, ' and what were you talking about ?' 

" * I was praying to depart, and to be with Christ, 
which is far better,' was his reply. 

" Having intimated that I feared his sickness would 
terminate in death, I wished him to tell me what he 
thought of himself in the sight of God, and what was 
the foundation of his hope. ' 0,' he replied, ' I have been 
in great trouble this morning, but I am happy now. I 
saw an immense mountain with precipitous sides, up 
which I endeavoured to climb ; but when I had attained 
a considerable height I lost my hold, and fell to the 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 303 

bottom. Exhausted with perplexity and fatigue, I went 
to a distance, and sat down to weep, and, while weeping, 
I saw a drop of blood fall upon that mountain, and in a 
moment it was dissolved.' 

" Wishing to obtain his own ideas of what had been 
presented to his imagination, I said, 'This was cer- 
tainly a strange sight: what construction do you put 
upon it ?' 

" After expressing his surprize that I should be at a 
loss for the interpretation, he exclaimed, * That mountain 
was my sins, and the drop which fell upon it was one 
drop of the precious blood of Jesus, by which the moun- 
tain of my guilt must be melted away.' 

"I expressed my satisfaction at finding he had such 
an idea of the magnitude of his guilt, and such exalted 
views of the efficacy of the Saviour's blood, and that, 
although the eyes of his body were blind, he could, with 
the ' eye of his heart,' see such a glorious sight. He 
then went on to state that the various sermons he had 
heard were now his companions in solitude, and the 
source of his comfort in affliction. On saying, at the 
close of the interview, that I would go home and prepare 
some medicine for him, which might afford him ease, he 
replied, ' I .will drink it because you say I must, but I 
shall not pray to be restored to health again ; for my 
desire is to depart and to be with Christ, which is far 
better than to remain longer in this sinful world.' 

" In my subsequent visits I always found him happy 
and cheerful, longing to depart and to be with Christ. 
This was constantly the burden of his prayer. I was 
with him when he breathed his last. During this inter- 
view, he quoted many precious passages of Scripture ; 
and having exclaimed, with energy, ' death, where is 
thy sting?' his voice faltered, his eyes became fixed, 
his hands dropped, and his spirit departed to be with 
that Saviour, one drop of whose blood had melted away 



304 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

the mountain of his guilt. Thus died poor Me, the 
blind warrior of Raiateia. I retired from the over- 
whelming and interesting scene, praying, as I went, 
that my end might be like his." 



25. DONALD MORRISON. 

The Rev. M. Gilfillan has given us a sketch of this 
eminently pious man : — 

Donald Morrison was the oldest member in the Se- 
cession Church at Oomrie, and the oldest man in the 
parish. He was always an early riser, his food was 
the simplest that could be found, and he had a great 
command over his passions. His temper was gentle 
and calm ; his disposition, sweet and agreeable. From 
his early years he feared God, delighted in prayer, medi- 
tation, reading the Scriptures, and hearing the word 
preached. His acquaintance with the Scriptures was very 
profound and extensive. You could hardly mention a 
portion of them which he did not remember, and, consider- 
ing his education, well understand. Truly, this blessed 
book was his daily companion, and unfailing consola- 
tion through life. Indeed, he never read many other 
books — this was always new, and always refreshing to 
his soul. 

The lot of this good and venerable man was pecu- 
liarly afflictive and trying. It was truly through great 
tribulation that he entered the kingdom. No man was 
known in the place to have ever had such a large share 
of domestic trouble as he had. Besides the death of 
his wife and some children a long time ago, and per- 
sonal affliction in no small degree, he had two sons who 
were idiots, and a third who had the epilepsy, or falling 
sickness, and who perished in a fit of that disorder, as 
was supposed, in the water of Lednock, not far from his 



SEC. III. J CHRISTIAN MEN. . 305 

father's house. One of these boys was sprightly and 
active till he was five years of age, and, at that period, 
which, perhaps, is not to be paralleled in the history of 
man, sunk into stupidity and inaction. Donald was 
put to incredibly great trouble and anxiety with these 
three sons. As they were intractable themselves, the 
great burden of managing them lay upon him. Though 
they frequently wandered from his house, and some- 
times to a great distance, he never grudged time, nor 
exertion, nor expense, in seeking them out, and bringing 
them home again. One petition he frequently preferred 
to the throne of grace was, that if it were the will of 
God, he would wish to survive them, that no other per- 
son might be troubled with them but himself. This 
prayer God graciously answered, for the last of them 
died about twelve years since, aged forty. 

Amidst all these heavy trials he was wonderfully sup- 
ported, and no man ever heard him complain. In pa- 
tience he possessed his soul, finding that Divine grace 
was sufficient for him, and the strength of Christ per- 
fected in his weakness. It is, beyond controversy, a 
strong proof of the reality and importance of religion, 
when we see a man struggling with adversity for many 
years ; and trials accumulating with his age ; and trials, 
too, of a very uncommon kind, and still cheerful, serene, 
and submissive. We must seek for the cause of all this 
in the faith of the Gospel. This is a remedy for all 
human evils, an antidote to all fears, a consolation in 
all afflictions, and the grand asylum in every danger. 
When the world around hirn stood amazed at his forti- 
tude and resignation, he felt himself entirely dependent 
on the grace of Christ, by which he could do and 
suffer everything. The cause of his submission was 
perhaps hid from them, but its effects were obvious and 
certain. The contentment of this good man in every 
situation was almost proverbial in the place where 



306 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

he lived, and strongly recommended genuine Chris- 
tianity. 

Suitable to this life and walk of faith, was the death 
of this old disciple. He had been for several years very 
infirm, but was able to attend the church in the summer 
every year except the last before his death. But he 
still continued to love the Bible and the duty of prayer. 
" He felt his ruling passion strong in death." He de- 
clared, times without number, to his pastor, that he had 
enough of life and its vanities ; that he was well pleased 
with the thorny path through which God had lead him ; 
that he had a deep sense of his guilt and misery as a 
sinner, and that he approved of the way of salvation by 
Christ, as worthy of God, and suitable to perishing sin- 
ners ; that he had good hope through grace, and would 
soon be with Christ, whom he loved above all things in 
heaven and earth; that his desires after the enjoyment 
of God were strong and unquenchable. " 0," said he, 
" what a sight will it be to see Christ as he is ! Fare- 
well, all things below the sun ! I shall never see hell ! 
I shall be forever with the Lord ! Nothing shall sepa- 
rate me from the love of God ! He hath done all things 
well!" He retained his senses till the last, and sunk 
into eternity, like the sun retiring below the horizon, 
and fell asleep in Jesus. 

"Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord." No 
monument records his name, no epitaph adorns his 
grave, no sculptor can exhibit his piety and patience ; 
but such as he was shall be held in everlasting remem- 
brance. " Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, 
for the end of that man is peace !" 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 307 



26. LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL. 

"The soul uneasy, and confined from home, 
Rests and expatiates in a world to come." 

Lord William Russell, son of the duke of Bedford, 
and a distinguished patriot, fell a victim to the tyranny of 
Charles II., in 1683. When his last interview with the 
countess, his wife, on the evening before he was exe- 
cuted, was over, he observed, " The bitterness of death 
is past." Just before he was beheaded he said aloud, 
" Neither imprisonment nor fear of death has been able 
to discompose me in any degree. On the contrary, I 
have found the assurances of the love and the mercy of 
God, in and through my blessed Redeemer, in whom 
alone I trust. And I do not question but I am going 
to partake of that fulness of joy which is in his pre- 
sence ; the hopes of which do so wonderfully delight 
me, that I think this is the happiest time of my life, 
though others may look upon it as the saddest." 



27. LORD BACON. 

Lord Bacon was one of the greatest geniuses of Eng- 
land, and, what is more than all, a sincere Christian. 
How delicious to turn away from the vapouring pomp 
and parade of philosophists and infidels to the pages of 
such men as Bacon, and hear him saying, " A little philo- 
sophy inclineth men's minds to atheism ; but depths in 
philosophy bring men's minds about to religion." We 
find a prayer of his which begins with these words, and 
which we record as his last testimony : — " Thy crea- 
tures, Lord, have been my books, but thy holy Scrip- 



308 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

tures much more. I have sought thee in the courts, 
fields, and gardens ; but I have found thee, God, in 
thy sanctuary, thy temples." 



28. JOHN WELCH. 

" what new life I feel ! 
Being of beings, how I rise ! Not one, 
A thousand steps I rise ! And yet I feel 
Advancing still in glory — I shall soar 
Above these thousand steps. Near and more near 
(Nor in his works alone, these beauteous worlds) 
I shall behold the Eternal face to face." — Bulmer's Messiah. 

John Welch, the son-in-law of John Knox, was one 
of the most gifted ministers of the Church of Scotland ; 
a man of apostolic zeal and extraordinary devotion ; he 
lived in holy communion with God. He died an exile 
in France for the word of God and the testimony of 
Jesus. Having preached to a congregation of Protes- 
tants in France, he was taken ill immediately as he left 
the pulpit. On his death-bed he seemed to feel himself 
on the very threshold of glory ; he was filled and over- 
powered with the sensible manifestations of God's love 
and glory. The last words of this holy man were uttered 
in an ecstasy of joy: "It is enough, Lord, it is now 
enough; hold thy hand; thy servant is a clay vessel, 
and can hold no more !" 



29. BERGERUS. 

Bergerus, an illustrious councillor of the emperor 
Maximilian, and one much admired by Melancthon, 
said on his dying bed, " Farewell, farewell, all earthly 
things, and welcome heaven ! Let none hereafter make 
mention of earthly things to me." 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 309 



30. ZUNIGER. 

Zuniger, a learned professor of medicine at Basle, ap- 
proached his end with holy longings and pantings after 
death : " I rejoice, yea, my spirit leaps within me for joy, 
that now the time at last is come, when I shall see the 
glorious God face to face ; whose glory I have had some 
glances of here, in the search of natural things ; whom I 
have worshipped, whom I have by faith longed after, 
and after whom my soul has panted." 



31. LIEUT. DANIEL MURRAY. 

The following account of the exit of this good man is 
from the pen of a friend and associate : — 

" When I arrived at the residence of our late friend, 
Mr. Daniel Murray, I found him apparently dying. He 
had arranged all his affairs, talked in the most cheerful, 
consoling manner to his family and friends, and sent 
messages of affectionate regard to those who were 
absent. He received me with great animation, and a 
smile that showed he was filled with ' all joy and peace.' 
He expressed his thankfulness at my visit, spoke of his 
many and great comforts, the perfect peace and happi- 
ness he felt, and the sure hope which enabled him to 
welcome death, that he might be with his Saviour. He 
declared that it was to him alone he looked with this 
confident hope; that he was himself unworthy, and 
trusted entirely to the merits of his Redeemer. Hours 
were passed in conversations like these. 

" Upwards of thirty years ago he made profession of 
religion. From that time to his death, during a retired 



310 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and domestic life, lie was known as a warm, consistent 
Christian. All this you know. But I knew him long 
before this. At eight or nine years of age, he being a 
year older, we became intimate, and were brought up 
together almost in the same family. We continued thus 
until he entered the navy, I think in the year 1798; and 
ever since we have been much together, and always on 
terms of the closest friendship. 

"From my earliest recollections of him, his character 
and conduct were so remarkable, that he seemed to me 
without a fault. No temptations ever seemed to sur- 
prise him. No allurement or persuasion led him from 
his course. I remember well how strong his influence 
was over me, and how it was always used for my good. 
But I ascribed to natural causes altogether the peculiarity 
and excellence of his character, and did not see how re- 
ligion could change him, who seemed already as perfect 
as a human being could be. This was not only my 
thought ; all who knew him well thus estimated him. 

" I remember being present at a conversation on the 
subject of religion between the late John Randolph and 
Commodore Decatur, who had known Mr. Murray while 
in the navy. The latter was expressing his difficulties 
about the universal sinfulness of man's nature. It sur- 
prised him that the very best people in the world should 
always speak of themselves as sinners. He mentioned 
his own mother as an instance ; and then, turning to me, 
said, ' There, too, is our friend Murray ; you know what 
a man he is ; who ever saw anything wrong in him ? Is 
it not absurd to think of such a man as a sinner? And 
yet he accounts himself such.' 

"I shall never forget Mr. Randolph's reply to this. 
He rose from his sofa, walked towards Decatur, stood 
before him, and in his emphatic manner said to this 
effect : ' I well know how dark and unintelligible this 
subject appears to you, and why it is so. But I trust a 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 311 

time will come when you will know and feel it to be all 
true — true of all, true of yourself; when you will be self- 
arraigned and self- condemned ; found guilty of sin — not 
of the sin of cowardice, falsehood, or any mean and dis- 
honourable act, but at least of this, that you have had 
conferred upon you great and innumerable favours, and 
have requited your Benefactor with ingratitude. This 
will be guilt enough to humble you. and you will feel 
and own that you are a sinner.' 

" The difficulties, however, that I had felt from this 
appreciation of his early character, were all cleared up 
at the death-bed of my friend. On my first seeing him 
he said, ' You witness my most comfortable and happy 
state. I cannot describe it to you. Now, I owe it all to 
you, though I never told you, and you never knew it.' 
Shortly after this, when we were alone, he called to me 
and said : ' Now I will tell you what I never told you or 
any one. When we first met, and you were a little boy, 
your good mother had taught you a hymn, which you 
used to repeat aloud every night on getting into bed. 
That hymn made a remarkable and deep impression on 
me. which was never effaced. Without your knowing it, 
I got it by heart from hearing you repeat it ; and from 
that time to this, I have never gone to my rest at night 
without repeating to myself that hymn and praying. 
This had a most salutary effect upon me all my life. 
"When at sea, I never, under any circumstances, omitted 
it; and under the influence produced by it, I remember 
that when I was once for a short time in command of a 
small brig we had captured from the French in the 
Mediterranean, one of the first orders I gave was for the 
regular meeting of all hands for reading and prayer, 
which was well received, and had a good effect.' He 
then repeated it to me, and I took a pencil and wrote it 
down. I had forgotten every word of it. 

" Here then 1 saw the true source of all that had so 



312 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

charmed and surprised me in his life. What I had at- 
tributed to the impulse of a gentle and noble nature, 
were the ' fruits of the Spirit ;' and the excellence that 
shone forth in his conduct and character was ' the beauty 
of holiness.' This he acknowledged with all thankful- 
ness, and with the deepest humility; speaking of it as 
an infinite and undeserved mercy, which he had not 
improved as he ought. It now seems strange to me 
that I had never discovered this ; but I was walking in 
darkness, and therefore perceived not the light by which 
he was directed. 

" Surely God has here shown us some of the doings 
of his wonder-working hand. A pious mother teaches 
her child a hymn. It makes no impression upon his 
heart, and is soon effaced from his memory. But its 
work is done, and its fruits appear in the heart and life 
of another. 

"Shall she complain that the seed has been blown 
away from the soil over which she so carefully cast it, 
to take root in another? No. 'As the heavens are 
higher than the earth, so are God's ways higher than 
our ways, and his thoughts than our thoughts.' ' Who 
will say unto him, What doest thou?' That seed, thus 
blown away, produced its rich fruits, and they were then 
brought back to the spot which her prayers had desired 
they should bless. Her wayward child had forgotten 
her instructions, but they had made for him a friend, 
whose influence, and counsel, and example restrained 
and strengthened him in the dangerous paths of youth, 
whose life had taught him how to live, and whose death 
hath now taught him how to die. 

" Well may he bless God, for this 'his servant de- 
parted this life in faith and fear,' and ask ' his grace so 
to follow his good example, that with him he may be a 
partaker of the heavenly kingdom.' " 



i 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 313 



32. COL. DAVID MACK. 

Col. David Mack closed a long and eventful life in the 
early part of 1845, he being in the ninety- fifth year of 
his age. He was of Puritan descent ; "the blood of the 
Pilgrims ran in his veins, and the love of the Pilgrims' 
God burned in his heart." 

He attended constantly on Divine worship. He was 
not afraid of the snow and vapour, the stormy wind, 
rain, or distance; and obstacles which would keep at 
home two-thirds of a congregation of common Christians 
in the prime of life, were no impediment to him at four- 
score years and ten, a period when even "the grasshop- 
per is a burden." But " love knows no burden," and 
hence it was easy for him to go to the house of the Lord, 
for he " loved the gates of Zion more than all the dwell- 
ings of Jacob." 

He lived till satisfied with long life. When his pas- 
tor asked him, near its close, if his life seemed short, he 
did not say, like Jacob, "Few and evil have the days of 
the years of my life been," but he said, " When I look at 
my life, taken as a whole, it seems short, like a hand- 
breadth before me ; but when I look at the gradual and 
astonishing changes which have taken place, and when I 
trace them from the commencement to the great result, 
and when I look at my posterity, my children's children, 
I almost feel that I have lived forever!" 

Though his hearing was yet perfect, and his eye 
scarcely dim, and his natural force not much abated, he 
did not wish to live longer ; his days were full, his work 
was done, he chose to depart : " and he was not, for God 
took him." 

" Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my 
last end be like his." 

14 



314 * DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



33. DR. T. W. COWGILL. 

Dr. Cowgill was born in Mason county, Ky., in 1811. 
His parents were devotedly pious. They gave most 
diligent attention to his early moral culture, and were so 
happy as to realize very soon the fruit of their labours. 
At the age of thirteen he embraced religion, and united 
with the Methodist Episcopal Church. 

During his sickness he frequently referred to his early 
training, with strong expressions of gratitude to God 
that he was the child of pious parents. 

Upon attaining to manhood he commenced the study 
of medicine, attended lectures in Cincinnati in the 
winter of 1834, and immediately afterward commenced 
the practice in Greencastle, la., the seat of the Indiana 
Asbury University. 

In the prosecution of his profession he proved himself 
to be a man of real medical science and skill. Perhaps 
few physicians were ever more eminently successful. 
He succeeded in gathering around him, in a very short 
time, many and most devoted friends, who were charmed 
with his social qualities, impressed with his piety, and 
exercised the largest confidence in his skill as a phy- 
sician. Few men have exhibited a more thorough de- 
votion to their profession than Dr. Cowgill. 

In the fall of 1846. he had attained to such profes- 
sional eminence, as to direct attention to him as a proper 
person to fill one of the chairs in the Indiana Central 
Medical College — a department of the Indiana Asbury 
University. When the board of Trustees met, he was 
elected to the chair of the Theory and Practice of Medi- 
cine — a post which he was never to fill. His health be- 
came more and more precarious. One fatal symptom 
after another developed itself; travel, which he tried, had 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 315 

no effect to arrest the disease ; and during the succeeding 
summer he resigned his professorship. This, perhaps, 
was one of the most trying circumstances of his life. His 
soul was wedded to medical science. The post which 
had been assigned him was one precisely suited to his 
tastes and inclinations ; and when his own knowledge of 
the human system revealed the fact that he should not 
be able to fill his chair, it was a disappointment which 
nothing but the grace of God could enable him to meet 
with equanimity. 

He was a keen observer of men and things. He pos- 
sessed more than ordinary powers of intellect, a very 
ready apprehension — a something approaching almost to 
instinctive perception, by which he grasped readily even 
the most abstruse subjects, and mastered them with sur- 
prising facility. 

But it was as a Christian, a follower of Christ, that 
his character shone with peculiar lustre. He seemed to 
live under the conviction that God and the Church had 
a full claim on all his powers; and this conviction 
deepened as he advanced in years, and increased to 
maturity. In his sphere he was an illustration of 
the sentiment of inspiration, "Whether we live, we 
live unto the Lord; whether we die, we die unto the 
Lord; whether we live therefore, or die, we are the 
Lord's." 

On Thursday evening prior to his death, while some 
of his friends were engaged in vocal prayer around his 
bed, he received a most remarkable outpouring of the 
Spirit. Using his own language, it was " limitless, un- 
bounded, unspeakable joy — it was full redemption." It 
was then he received the evidence of entire sanctifica- 
tion. To those who were with him it seemed as though 
the room had been filled with the glory of God, and they 
were strongly reminded of the scene of the Pentecost. 
His voice, from being weak and hollow, became so 



316 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

strong and full that it might have been heard distinctly 
some distance outside of the house. For more than 
twenty minutes he poured forth such a tide of eloquent 
thought, he gave such clear and expressive statements 
of his enjoyments, of his relations to God as a redeemed 
sinner, and of the plan of human salvation, as astonished 
those who were most intimately acquainted with him. 
And then, when he had exhausted all the power of lan- 
guage, he would urgently entreat those who were with 
him to aid him in giving embodiment to the feelings of 
rapture and praise which he in vain struggled to ex- 
press. 

" I have been," said he, " able to look upon death be- 
fore with composure ; but never before could I look clear 
through the dark and gloomy vault, quite up into heaven. 
0, such a fulness, such an infinity of joy !" 

One coming in, said, " You have comfort." He re- 
plied, " That word will not do ; it is glory. Here it is ; 
the soul immortal, the body mortal ; the soul all-power- 
ful to think, to reason, and enjoy, the body all weakness 
and pain ; the body pinioned to the bed, the soul soar- 
ing away, scarce willing to stay longer with its frail 
companion. All the bliss of being seems to be concen- 
trated upon this hour." And when, afterward, he re- 
ferred to the same blessing, he said, " As I had a few 
things yet to accomplish, I had to persuade my ravished 
soul to linger a little longer with my body." 

On Friday morning the sacrament of the Lord's Sup- 
per was, by his request, administered to him, and his 
infant child baptized. It was a scene of great joy and 
religious triumph. From that moment he seemed to be 
almost entirely severed from the world, and waiting in 
joyful expectancy the summons of his Master. 

His mind seemed to gain new strength, his concep- 
tions to become more vivid, and his ability to express 
the bright visions of his soul to greatly increase, as he 



SEC. III.] CHRISTIAN MEN. 317 

drew near to the gates of death. When speaking of the 
redemption of Christ, and of his desire to understand 
more of the plan of human redemption, he said, " Eter- 
nity is an endless series of cycles, developing the great 
ends of God's redeeming mercy in time. Religion is a 
stream of life, and joy, and salvation, poured along with 
the current of human existence." 

" How do you feel ?" said he, in a voice of tenderness, 
to his companion. 

After a momentary struggle with feeling she replied, 
indicating Christian firmness and resignation. She then 
repeated his question, " How do you feel ?" 

He answered, " As you have often done, when, late in 
the evening, you have sung to your babe, hushing it to 
repose with your evening lullaby, and desiring yourself 
to sink away into the same sweet sleep." 

Turning to his wife, who had lingered, like a guardian 
angel, through all his sickness, around his bed, and who, 
though exhausted with watching and labour, still ad- 
ministered to his wants, he said, with a countenance 
beaming with inexpressible affection, " Here is my wife ; 
she has been — " and he paused ; " she has been — what 
shall I say ? The Saviour gave her to me, and for 
eighteen months she has pinioned herself down to my 
room to watch over me, to anticipate my slightest wants, 
and to minister to all my necessities. God will re- 
ward her." 

He laboured for some time, during Sunday and Mon- 
day, under a nervous fever ; but, when it was possible to 
fix his thoughts at all upon the subject of religion, his 
mind became entirely clear and composed. 

The closing scene was on Tuesday. As he drew near 
to the final struggle, the fever gave w x ay, and his mind 
became entirely and uninterruptedly clear. When his 
respiration had become difficult, and his voice husky in 
death, as we sung, 



318 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

" that each from his Lord might receive the glad word/ 7 
he joined us, and sung the last two lines, 

" Well and faithfully done, 
Enter into my joy, and sit down on my throne," 

his lips continuing to move when he was no longer able 
to articulate. I said to him, " Do you yet feel you have 
victory ?" and the last words he uttered were in reply to 
this : "All victory, unutterable victory; all is peace, all 
is joy, all is well !" When even his whispered praise 
could no longer be heard, he was requested, if he yet 
felt he had victory, to raise his hand. Throwing all his 
remaining bodily strength into the effort, he raised his 
hand, and waved it above his head, his countenance be- 
coming radiant with inward joy; then sinking rapidly, 
in a few moments he fell asleep in Jesus. This was the 
end of one who loved and feared God. It was a Chris- 
tian triumph — another verification of God's word : " In 
all these things we are more than conquerors." 

[Note. — The above sketch is taken mainly from an obituary 
written by President Berry, of the Indiana Asbury University.] 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 319 

SECTION IV. 

Christian ID m t n . 

1. HARRIET NEWELL. 

1 1 Should fate command me to the farthest verge 
Of the green earth, to distant harb'rous climes, 
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun 
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam 
Flames on the Atlantic isles ! 'tis naught to me, 
Since God is ever present — ever just, 
In the void waste, as in the city full ; 
And where He vital breathes, there mxiM be joy" — Thompson. 

Harriet Newell passed through a short, but shining, 
course to heaven. She was born at Haverhill, in Mas- 
sachusetts, on October 10, 1793; her maiden name was 
Atwood. In her nineteenth year she was married to 
Mr. Samuel Newell, an American missionary to India, 
and on November 30, 1812, died at Port Louis, in the 
Isle of France. Thus, in her, within the short compass 
of twenty years, were displayed the varied graces of the 
dutiful daughter, the affectionate wife, the tender mother, 
the zealous Christian, and the devoted missionary. With- 
in that little span she was all these, and, to crown all, a 
saint in light. 

Before she had completed her sixteenth year she 
became, in reality, a devoted follower of the great Ee- 
deemer ; and, during the remainder of her short pilgrim- 
age, walked with God. An abiding impression of her 
own unworthiness made the cross of Christ her joy and 
trust. " On the precious mount of Calvary," said she, 
" hangs all my hope. In His atoning blood, who suf- 
fered and died, my sins can be washed away ; and how- 



320 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

ever vile and loathsome in myself, in Him I can find 
cleansing." 

After being made a partaker of the grace of God, she 
panted for the highest attainments and enjoyments of 
religion. The following extracts of her diary show what 
were the desires of her soul : — 

" that my whole soul might be drawn out in love 
to God! and may all my faculties unite with the in- 
habitants of the New Jerusalem in praising the immortal 
King for what he has done, and still is doing, for re- 
bellious man ! But I fall infinitely short of the honour 
due to his glorious name. When shall I arrive at the 
destined port of rest, and with the blood- washed mil- 
lions praise the Lamb of God for redeeming love? 
Hasten, blessed Immanuel, that glorious period when 
all thy exiled children shall arrive at their eternal 
home ! for a tongue to sound aloud the honours of 
the dear Jesus I" 

The time was now approaching when she was to en- 
counter the difficulties of a missionary life. She listen- 
ed to the call of Providence, and obtained the consent 
of her affectionate mother. The feelings of her own 
heart, and the conduct of her mother, she thus describes 
in a letter to a friend : — 

" When I bade you a parting adieu, my mind was in 
a state of agitation which I can never express. De- 
jected and weary, I arrived at the dear mansion, where 
I have spent so many pleasant hours. My dear mamma 
met me at the door with a countenance that bespoke 
the tranquillity of her mind. The storm of opposition, 
as she observed, had blown over, and she was brought 
to say from the heart, ' Thy will be done.' Yes, C, 
she had committed her child to God's parental care; 
and though her affection was not lessened, yet, with 
tears in her eyes, she said, 'If a conviction of duty and 
love to the souls of the perishing heathen lead you to 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 321 

India, as much as I love you, Harriet, I can only say, 
Go. 9 Here I was left to decide the important question. 
Many were the conflicts within my breast. But at 
length, from a firm persuasion of duty, and a willing- 
ness to comply, after much examination and prayer, I 
answered in the affirmative." 

To another friend she wrote : — " I have passed 
through many interesting and solemn scenes since I 
last saw you. Returning to Haverhill, I found my 
dear mamma calm and composed. So completely was 
she filled with a sense of the shortness of time, and the 
uncertainty of life, and the duty of giving up our dear- 
est comforts to the Lord, that she never raised one ob- 
jection, but wished me to act according as my conscience 
directed. I felt an unspeakable consolation in commit- 
ting the disposal of this event to God. 

" And now, my dear M., what will you say to me 
when I tell you that I do think, seriously think, of 
quitting my native land forever, and of going to a far 
distant country, 'not knowing the things which shall 
befall me there.' Should I refuse to make this sacrifice 
— refuse to lend my little aid in the promulgation of 
the Gospel among the heathen — how could I ever ex- 
pect to enjoy the blessing of God, and peace of con- 
science, though surrounded with every temporal mercy? 
It would be pleasant to spend the remaining part of my 
life with my friends, and to have them surround my 
dying bed. But no ! I must relinquish their society, 
and follow God to a land of strangers, where millions 
of my fellow- sinners are perishing for lack of vision. I 
have professed, my friend, for these two years past, to 
derive comfort only from God. Here, then, is a con- 
soling reflection — the ever-blessed Jesus is able to sup- 
port and comfort me, as well in the sultry climes of 
India, as in my dear native land. I trust that he will 
make his promise good — that as my day is, so shall my 

14* 



322 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

strength be. The wintry storms of life will soon be 
over, and if I have committed my immortal interests 
into the hands of God, I shall shortly find a sweet re- 
lease from every woe. The people of this world pro- 
bably view this subject as they do others. Those who 
have never felt the worth of their own souls, account it 
superstition and hypocritical zeal for Christians to 
sacrifice their earthly pleasures for the sake of telling 
the heathen world of a Saviour. But all the ridicule 
that the gay and thoughtless sinner can invent will 
not essentially injure me. If I am actuated by love to 
the Saviour and his cause, nothing in earth or hell can 
hurt me." 

Love to the world would have forbidden the sacrifice 
she was now about to make; but she had learned to 
confess herself a stranger and pilgrim upon earth. In 
her diary she says, — 

" ' I 'm but a stranger and a pilgrim here, 
In these wild regions, wandering and forlorn, 
Restless and sighing for my native home, 
Longing to reach the weary space of life, 
And to fulfil my task/ 

" Yes, my Redeemer, I know by experience, that this 
life is a tiresome round of vanities hourly repeated. 
All is empty. My thirsty soul longs for the enjoyment 
of God in heaven, where the weary and heavy laden 
find rest. How long, my Father, shall I wander in 
this dreary land ? whea shall I bid a final adieu to these 
scenes of guilt 

* haste the hour of joy and sweet repose !' w 

In a letter to a friend she said, — " I go, my friend, 
where heathens dwell, far from the companions of my 
playful years, far from the dear land of my nativity. 
My contemplated residence will be, not among the 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 323 

refined and cultivated, but among females degraded 
and uncivilized, who have never heard of the religion 
of Jesus. How w r ould it gladden my sad heart, in the 
trying hour of my departure, could I but leave a dear 
circle of females of my own age, engaged for God, and 
eminent for their usefulness in Haverhill. Well, I hope 
to find a circle of Hindoo sisters in India, interested in 
that religion which many of my companions reject, 
though blessed with innumerable privileges. But my 
friend M. will not treat with indifference this religion. 
no ! I will cherish the fond hope that she will re- 
nounce the world, become a follower of Immanuel, and 
be unwearied in her exertions to spread the triumphs 
of the cross through the world. I must leave you, my 
dear M., with God. May you become a living witness 
for him ! When our journey through this barren wil- 
derness is ended, may w T e meet in heaven !" 

At length the hour of her departure from " friends, 
kindred, country," arrived. She deeply felt the pang 
of separation, yet said, in a letter to a friend : " Conso- 
lations are mine, more valuable than ten thousand 
worlds. My Saviour, my Sanctifier, my Redeemer, is 
still lovely ; his comforts will delight my soul. Think 
of Harriet, when crossing the stormy ocean ; think of 
her when wandering over Hindoostan's sultry plains. 
Farewell, my friend — a last, a long farewell. 

" May ive meet in yonder world, ' where adieus and 
farewells are a sound unknown !' " 

To another friend, at the same period, she wrote, — 
"The hour of my departure hastens; when another 
rising sun illumines the eastern horizon I shall bid a 
last farewell to a beloved widowed mother, brothers, 
and sisters dear, and the circle of Haverhill friends. 
With a scene so replete with sorrow just at hand, how 
can I be otherwise than solemn as eternity! The 
motives which first induced me to determine upon 



324 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

devoting my life to the service of God in distant India, 
now console my sinking spirits. how valuable, 
how exceedingly precious, are the promises of the 
Gospel ! 

" My friend, there is a rest for the weary pilgrim in 
yonder world. Shall we meet there, 'when the long 
Sabbath of the tomb is past ?' " 

The sacrifice was made, but she did not regret that 
she had made it ; though now, more than ever, she felt 
herself but a pilgrim upon earth. In a part of her 
diary, written at sea, she says : — 

"My attachment to the world has greatly lessened 
since I left my country, and, with it, all the honours, 
pleasures, and riches of life. Yes, mamma, I feel this 
morning like a pilgrim and a traveller in a dry and 
thirsty land, where no water is. Heaven is my home ; 
there, I trust, my weary soul will sweetly rest, after a 
tempestuous voyage across the ocean of life. I love to 
think of what I shall shortly be when I have finished 
my heavenly Father's work on earth. How sweet the 
thoughts of glory, while I wander here in this waste 
wilderness ! I still contemplate the path into which I 
have entered with pleasure, although replete with trials, 
under which nothing but sovereign grace can support 
me. I have, at times, the most ardent desires to see 
you, and my other dear friends. These desires, for a 
moment, are almost insupportable. But when I think 
seriously of the object of my undertaking, and the 
motives which first induced me to give up all, and 
enter upon it, I enjoy a sweet serenity of mind, a 
satisfaction which the heaviest trials cannot destroy. 
The sacrifices which I have made are great indeed; 
but the light of Immanuel's countenance can enliven 
every dreary scene, and make the path of duty plea- 
sant." 

The heaven she thus desired, in a few months she was 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 325 

called to enjoy. The following extracts from letters 
written by Mr. Newell, from the Isle of France, in De- 
cember, 1812, describe the conclusion of her earthly 
course. : — 

" When I sit down to address you, my dear mother, 
from this distant land, to me a land of strangers, and a 
place of exile, a thousand tender thoughts arise in my 
mind, and naturally suggest such inquiries as these: 
How is it now with that dear woman to whom I am in- 
debted for my greatest earthly blessings — the mother of 
my dear Harriet ? — and mine too, (for I must claim the 
privilege of considering you as my own dear mother.) 
Does the candle of the Lord still shine on her taber- 
nacle, and is the voice of joy and praise yet heard in her 
dwelling ? Or, what is not improbable in this world of 
disappointment, has some new affliction, the death per- 
haps of a dear child, or of some other beloved friend, 
caused her heart again to bleed and her tears to flow ? 
Ah ! my mother, though we may live many years, and 
see good in them all, yet let us remember the days of 
darkness, for they too will be many. It is decreed by 
Infinite Wisdom alone, that through much tribulation 
we must enter into the kingdom of heaven. You, my 
dear mother, have had your share of adversity; and 1 
too have had mine. But we will not complain. Sancti- 
fied afflictions are the choicest favours of heaven ; they 
cure us of our vain and foolish expectations from the 
world, and teach our thoughts and affections to ascend, 
and fix on joys that never die. 1 never longed so much 
to see you as I have these several days past. What 
would I now give to sit one hour by that dear fire- side, 
where I have tasted the most unalloyed pleasure that 
earth affords, and recount to you and the dear children, 
the perils, the toils, and the sufferings, through which I 
have passed since I left my native land. In this happy 
circle I should for a moment forget 



326 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

" Yes, my dear friends, I would tell you how God 
has disappointed our favourite schemes, and blasted our 
hopes of preaching Christ in India, and has sent us all 
away from that extensive field of usefulness, with an in- 
timation that he has nothing for us to do there, while he 
has suffered others to enter in and reap the harvest. I 
would tell you how he has visited us all Avith sickness, 
and how he has afflicted me in particular by taking away 
the dear little babe which he gave us, the child of our 
prayers, of our hopes, of our tears. I would tell you — 
but ! shall I tell it or forbear ? 

"Have courage, my mother, God will support you 
under this trial ; though it may, for a time, cause your 
very heart to bleed. Come then, let us mingle our 
griefs, and weep together, for she was dear to us both, 
and she too is gone. Yes ; Harriet, your lovely daugh- 
ter, is gone, and you will see her face no more ! Harriet, 
my own dear Harriet, the wife of my youth, and the 
desire of my ej^es, has bid me a last farewell, and left 
me to mourn and weep ! Yes, she is gone. I wiped 
the cold sweat of death from her pale, emaciated face, 
while we travelled together down to the entrance of the 
dark valley. There she took her upward flight, and I 
saw her ascend to the mansions of the blessed! 
Harriet ! Harriet ! for thou wast very dear to me. Thy 
last sigh tore my heart asunder, and dissolved the charm 
which tied me to earth. 

" But I must hasten to give you a more particular 
account of the repeated afflictions with which God has 
visited me." 

After giving an account of these afflictions, of the birth 
and death of her infant, and of the rapid consumption of 
which she died, he then proceeds as follows : — 

" There, my dear mother ; I have finished the story of 
Harriet's sufferings. Let us turn from the tale of woe to 
brighter scenes — one that will gladden your heart, as I 



SEC. IV.] CIIRISTIAN WOMEN. 327 

am sure it does mine. During this long series of suffer- 
ings, the bare recital of which must affect every feeling 
heart, she meekly yielded to ihe will of her heavenly 
Father, without one murmuring word. ' My wicked 
heart/ she writes, ' is inclined to think it hard, that I 
should suffer such fatigue and hardship. I sinfully 
envy those whose lot it is to live in tranquillity on land. 
Happy people! Ye know not the toils and trials of 
voyagers across the rough and stormy deep. for a 
little Indian hut on land ! But hush, my warring pas- 
sions ; it is for Jesus who sacrificed the joys of his Fa- 
ther's kingdom, and expired on a cross to redeem a fallen 
world, that thus I wander from place to place, and feel 
nowhere at home. How reviving the thought! how 
great the consolation it yields to my sinking heart ! I 
will cherish it, and yet be happy.' 

" In view of those sufferings which she afterward ex- 
perienced, she writes thus : '1 hope to reach the place 
of our destination in good health. But I feel no anxiety 
about that. I know that God orders everything in the 
best possible manner. If he so orders events, that I 
should suffer pain and sickness on the stormy ocean, 
without a female friend, exposed to the greatest incon- 
veniences, shall I repine, and think he deals hardly with 
me ? no ! Let the severest trials and disappoint- 
ments fall to my lot, guilty and weak as I am, yet I 
think 1 can rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of 
my salvation.' 

" In the first part of the sickness which succeeded the 
birth of our babe, she had some doubts, which occa- 
sionally interrupted her spiritual comfort; but they 
were soon removed, and her mind was filled with that 
peace of God which passeth all understanding. When 
I asked her, a few days before she died, if she had any 
remaining doubts respecting her spiritual state, she an- 
swered with an emphasis, that she had none. During 



J28 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

the whole of her sickness, she talked in the most fa- 
miliar manner, and with great delight, of death and the 
glory that was to follow. When Dr. Burke one day told 
her, those were gloomy thoughts, she had better get rid 
of them, she replied, that on the contrary they were to 
her cheering and joyful beyond what she could express. 
When I attempted to persuade her that she would re- 
cover, (which I fondly hoped,) it seemed to strike her 
like a disappointment. She would say, 'You ought 
rather to pray that I may depart, that I may be perfectly 
free from sin, and be where God is.' 

" Her mind was from day to day filled with the most 
comforting and delightful views of the character of God 
and Christ. She often requested me to talk to her on 
these interesting subjects. She told me that her 
thoughts were so much confused, and her mind so much 
weakened, by the distress of body she had suffered, that 
she found it difficult steadily to pursue a train of thought 
on Divine things, but that she continually looked to 
God and passively rested on him. She often spoke of 
meeting her friends in heaven. 'Perhaps,' said she, 
' my dear mother has gone before me to heaven, and as 
soon as I leave this body I shall find myself with her.' 
At another time she said : ' We often talk of meeting 
our friends in heaven ; but what would heaven be with 
all our friends if God were not there V 

" She longed exceedingly for the brethren to arrive 
from India, that we might form ourselves into a Church, 
and celebrate the dying love of Jesus once more before 
she died. Her desires to enjoy the benefit of this ordi- 
nance were so strong, and our situation so peculiar, that 
I thought a deviation from the usages of our Churches 
in this instance would be justifiable, and accordingly on 
the last Sabbath in November, the day before she died, 
I gave her the symbols of the body and the blood of our 
Lord ; and I trust it was a comfortable season to us both. 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 329 

" A few days before she died, after one of those dis- 
tressing turns of coughing and raising phlegm, which so 
rapidly wasted her strength, she called me to come and 
sit on the bed beside her, and receive her dying message 
to her friends. She observed, that her strength was 
quite exhausted, and she could say only a few words, but 
feared she should not have another opportunity. ■ Tell 
my dear mother,' said she, ' how much Harriet loved her. 
Tell her to look to God and keep near to him, and he 
will support and comfort her in all her trials. I shall 
meet her in heaven, for surely she is one of the dear 
children of God.' She then turned to her brothers and 
sisters. * Tell them,' said she, ' from the lips of their 
dying sister, that there is nothing but religion worth 
living for. ! exhort them to attend immediately to 
the care of their precious, immortal souls. Tell them 
not to delay repentance. The eldest of them will be 
anxious to know how I now feel with respect to mis- 
sions. Tell them, and also my dear mother, that I have 
never regretted leaving my native land for the cause of 
Christ. Let my dear brothers and sisters know that I 
love them to the last. I hope to meet them in heaven ; 
but ! if I should not.' Here the tears burst from her 
eyes, and her sobs of grief at the thought of an eternal 
separation, expressed the feelings that were too big for 
utterance. After she had recovered a little from the 
shock which these strong emotions had given to her 
whole frame, she attempted to speak of several other 
friends, but was obliged to sum up all she had to say in, 
' Love and an affectionate farewell to them all.' Within 
a day or two of her death, such conversation as the fol- 
lowing passed between us : — 

" Should you not be willing to recover, and live a 
while longer here?" 

" On some accounts it would be desirable. I wish to 
do something for God before I die. But the experience 



330 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

I have had of the deceitfulness of my heart, leads me to 
expect, that, if I should recover, my future life would be 
much the same as my past has been, and I long to be 
perfectly free from sin. God has called me away before 
we have entered on the work of the mission, but the case 
of David affords me comfort ; I have had it in my heart 
to do what I can for the heathen, and I hope God will 
accept me." 

" But what shall I do when you are gone ? How can 
I bear the separation ?" 

" Jesus will be your best friend, and our separation 
will be short. We shall soon, very soon, meet in a bet- 
ter world ; if I thought we should not, it would be pain- 
ful indeed to part with you." 

" How does your past life appear to you now V 

" Bad enough ; but that only makes the grace of Christ 
appear the more glorious." 

" Jesus, thy blood and righteousness 
My beauty are, my heavenly dress ; 
'Midst flaming worlds in these array'd, 
With joy shall I lift up my head." 

" When I told her that she could not live through the 
next day, she replied, ' joyful news ! I long to depart.' 
Some time after, I asked her, ' How does death appear to 
you now ?' She replied, ' Glorious ; truly welcome.' 
During Sabbath night she seemed to be a little wander- 
ing ; but the next morning she had her recollection per- 
fectly. As I stood by her, 1 asked her if she knew me. 
At first she made no answer. I said to her again, 
' My dear Harriet, do you know who I am ?' 

" My dear Mr. Newell, my husband," was her reply ; 
but in broken accents, and a voice faltering in death. 

" The last words which I remember, and which I think 
were the last she uttered relative to her departure, were 
these : ' The pains, the groans, the dying strife ! How 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 331 

long, Lord, how long ?' But I must stop, for I have 
already exceeded the bounds of a letter, though I have 
come far short of doing justice to the dying deport- 
ment of this dear friend. may my last end be like 
hers!" 

In a letter to another friend, Mr. Newell wrote : 
"Mary, my dear sister, do not grieve too much for 
Harriet ; she is well now. may we be counted wor- 
thy to meet her in the mansions of the blessed ! Dear 
creature, she comforted me with this hope on her dying 
bed ; and this blessed hope is worth more to me than all 
the wealth of India." 



2. HANNAH MORE. 

"The eternal flow of tilings, 
Like a bright river of the fields of heaven, 
Shall journey onward in eternal peace." — Bryant. 

Hannah More was the eldest of five sisters, all of 
whom lived unmarried, and devoted themselves . to the 
education of young persons. Her early life manifested 
too strong an inclination for worldly conformity — a fact 
which, considering the caresses lavished upon her, was 
more lamentable than astonishing. But as time rolled 
on, her mind and heart were brought under the full 
power of Divine truth. She was one of the early pa- 
tronesses of Sunday schools, a persevering opponent of 
negro-slavery, and an upholder of Christianity, through 
the press, in various publications which our space will 
not allow us to specify. 

In 1820, she was visited by a succession of severe and 
alarming fits of sickness, from which she herself sup- 
posed that she should never recover. Her expressions 
on this occasion have all the weight of a dying testi- 
mony. One of her friends having said, " I trust you 



332 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

will be better to-morrow;" she replied, "If it be God's 
will, I hope so ; when, where, and as thou wilt, Lord ! 
I, who have written so much upon submission to the will 
of God, ought now to practise it." 

When a part of the forty-first Psalm was repeated to 
her, she remarked: "A beautiful psalm! but all my 
trust is through grace, all my hope is for mercy, and all 
I ask is acceptance through Jesus Christ. What should 
I do now if the work were to be begun ?" 

" 0, what will it be," said she at another time, " when 
our eyes close on this scene, and open upon the world 
of spirits ? I have often thought, since I have been 
lying here, of poor Thistlewood's expression, ' We shall 
soon know the grand secret.' A Christian may say the 
same ; it is a secret equally to him ; but he says it with 
a firm faith and a well-grounded assurance, that 'there 
is a reward for the righteous/ — that ' there is a God that 
judgeth in the earth.' " 

From this attack, however, she recovered, and lived to 
extreme old age. In 1832, she began to sink under the 
weight of infirmities and of years. Yet her mind was 
clear and calm. Her exclamations were : " Jesus is all 
in all ; God of grace, God of light, God of love, whom 
have 1 in heaven but thee ?" When very sick, she said, 
"What can I do? What can I not do with Christ? 
I know that my Redeemer liveth." Speaking of hea- 
ven, she said : " The thought of that world lifts the mind 
above itself. My God, my God, I bless thy holy name. 
0, the love of Christ, the love of Christ ! Mercy, Lord, 
is all I ask!" 

At another time she said : " It pleases God to afflict 
me, not for his pleasure, but to do me good, to make me 
humble and thankful. Lord, I believe ; I do believe with 
all the power of my weak sinful heart ! Lord Jesus, 
look down upon me from thy holy habitation, strengthen 
my faith, and quicken me in my preparation ! Support 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 333 

me in that trying hour when I most need it ! It is a 
glorious thing to die !' When one talked to her of her 
good deeds, she said, 'Talk not so vainly — I utterly 
cast them from me, and fall low at the foot of the 
cross.' 

"During this illness of ten months, the time was 
passed in a series of alternations between restlessness 
and composure, long sleeps and long wakefulness, with 
occasional great excitement, elevated and sunken spirits. 
At length, nature seemed to shrink from further con- 
flict, and the time of her deliverance drew nigh. On 
Friday, September 6, 1833, we offered up the morning 
family devotions by her bed-side. She was silent, and 
apparently attentive, with her hands devoutly lifted up. 
From eight in the evening of this day till nearly nine, 
I was watching her. Her face was smooth and glowing. 
There was an unusual brightness in the expression. 
She smiled, and, endeavouring to raise herself a little 
from her pillow, she reached out her arms as if catching 
at something; and while making this effort, she once 
called ' Patty ' (the name of her last and dearest sister) 
very plainly, and exclaimed ' Joy!' In this state of 
quietness and inward peace she remained for about an 
hour. At half-past nine o'clock Dr. Carrick came. 
The pulse had become extremely quick and weak. At 
about ten, the symptoms of speedy departure could not 
be doubted. She fell into a dozing sleep, and slight 
convulsions succeeded, which seemed to be attended 
by no pain. She breathed softly, and looked serene. 
The pulse became fainter and fainter, and as quick as 
lightning. With the exception of a sigh or groan, there 
was nothing but the gentle breathing of infant sleep. 
Contrary to expectation, she survived the night. At 
six o'clock on Saturday morning I sent in for Miss 
Roberts. She lasted out till ten minutes after one, 
when I saw the last gentle breath escape; and one 



334 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

more was added to ' the multitude which no man can 
number/ who sing the praises of Grod and of the Lamb 
forever and ever." 



3. FELICIA HEMANS. 

Felicia Hemans is well and widely known as one of 
the sweetest and most impassioned of our domestic 
poets. There was about her the charm of exquisite 
sensibility and high principles ; and her poems, though 
sometimes over- wrought, were regulated by noble feel- 
ing and almost perfect taste. She was early acquainted 
with sorrow ; it left its traces in nearly every page she 
wrote ; but she had learned to trust in Him who " heal- 
eth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds." 
Her death was truly Christian. Her attendant writes 
of her, — " She ever seemed to me as a wanderer from 
her heavenly Father's mansion, who knew too much of 
that home to seek a resting-place here. She often said 
to me, ' I feel like a tired child, wearied, and longing to 
mingle with the pure in heart.' At other times she 
would say, ' I feel as if I were sitting with Maxy at the 
feet of my Redeemer, hearing the music of his voice, 
and learning of him to be meek and lowly.' And then 
she would say, • 0, Anna, do you not love your kind 
Saviour? The plan of redemption was indeed a glo- 
rious one ; humility was indeed the crowning work. I 
am like a quiet babe at his feet, and yet my spirit is 
full of his strength. When anybody speaks of his love 
to me, I feel as if they were too slow; my spirit can 
mount alone with him into those blissful realms with 
far more rapidity.' 

" ' I cannot tell you how much I suffer,' she wrote in 
pencil, as weakness gained upon her, ' nor what a state 
of utter childlike weakness my poor wasted limbs are 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 335 

reduced to. But my mind is, as I desired Charlie to 
tell you, in a state of the deepest resignation ; to which 
is now added a warm thankfulness to God for this his 
latest mercy.' She enjoyed the greatest peace, nor 
would she allow any tones of commiseration to be em- 
ployed before her. ' Xo poetry.' she said, ; could ex- 
press, nor imagination conceive, the visions of blessed- 
ness that flitted across her fancy, and made her waking 
hours more delightful than those even that were given 
to temporary repose.' She continually spoke of the 
unutterable comfort she derived from dwelling on the 
contemplation of the atonement. To one friend, for 
whom she dreaded the influence of adverse opinions, 
she sent a solemn exhortation, earnestly declaring that 
this alone was ; her rod and staff,' when all earthly sup- 
ports were failing. To another she desired the assur- 
ance might be given, that the ' tenderness and affection- 
ateness of the Redeemer's character, which they had 
often contemplated together, was now a source, not 
merely of reliance, but of positive happiness to her — 
the sweetness of her couch.' " 

Mrs. Hemans had ever loved flowers : they were to 
her the poetry of nature; they expressed to her the 
delightful truth that " God is love." Her sick room 
was always adorned with them; and they were expres- 
sive of the gentle kindness of those who daily furnished 
them for the couch of sickness. In a note, thanking a 
friend for one of these acts of consideration, she said, 
N I have been sorry, in one sense, to hear that you have 
latterly been so great a sufferer ; and I can indeed 
sympathize with you in many of the trying feelings 
attendant on a broken and declining state of health. 
But. as I believe 1 am writing to one who has 'tasted 
that the Lord is gracious/ and has been given to know 
something of that love that passeth knowledge, I almost 
feel as if it were wrong to say I am sorry that a gracious, 



836 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and compassionate, and faithful Saviour, is fulfilling to 
you his own precious promise, ' As many as I love, I 
rebuke and chasten.' " This was the true description 
of her own feeling. 

Her poetical faculty was strong to the last, and on 
her death-bed she dictated to her brother " The Sabbath 
Sonnet." She describes the blessedness of the groups 
w T ho, on that day, were seeking the house of Grod : — 

"/may not tread 
With them those pathways — to the feverish bed 
Of sickness bound ; yet, my God ! I bless 
Thy mercy, that with Sabbath peace hath filled 
My chastened heart, and all its throbbings still'd 
In one deep calm of lowliest thankfulness." 

Her friend, Dr. Croker, whom she called " a physician 
and a pastor," often read to her, and, among other 
things, some of the writings of Archbishop Leighton. 
" The last time of her listening to it, she repeatedly 
exclaimed, 'Beautiful! beautiful!' and, with her eyes 
upraised, seemed occupied in communing with herself, 
and mentally praying." At last, in a gentle slumber, 
she departed. Her end was in exquisite accordance 
with her life, and her own lines, inscribed on her epi- 
taph, — 

" Calm, on the bosom of thy God, 

Fair spirit, rest thee now : 
E'en whilst with us thy footsteps trod, 

His seal was on thy brow. 

" Dust, to its narrow cell beneath ; 
Soul, to its place on high : 
They who have seen thy look in death, 
No more need fear to die." 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 337 



4. CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. 

" A path that must be trod, 
If man would ever pass to God." 

Charlotte Elizabeth, another gifted authoress, is 
worthy of mention in this connexion. She, too, had 
been lacerated by domestic sorrow ; and she, too, was 
sustained by the all- supporting power of evangelical 
Christianity. During many years she had maintained 
herself and her mother by the profits of her pen ; and 
her last work, " War with the Saints," was composed 
after the seizure of her fatal illness, and by the help of 
machinery which enabled her to write while in a re- 
clining posture. Previous to this time she had lost her 
first husband, whose name was Phelan, and became the 
wife of Mr. L. H. J. Tonna. Her disease was cancer. 
In her last moments she exemplified the presence of the 
religion she had so vigorously maintained in opposition 
to Roman Catholic heresies. As Ramsgate was se- 
lected in the hope that a change to the sea- side might 
prove beneficial, she was removed with some difficulty 
to the railway. She acknowledged some special regu- 
lations made for her comfort during her journey, ex- 
claiming, "How good the Lord is to make every one 
so kind to me !" and, as soon as the door of the carriage 
was closed, she prompted her husband and servant to 
kneel beside her, and to ask that she might be upheld 
during her journey. As she passed the new Roman 
Catholic- Cathedral, lately opened in St. George's Fields, 
she demonstrated the force of her religious convictions 
by crying out at the sight of it, and in the Hebrew lan- 
guage, which she was accustomed to use, " daughter 
of Babylon, who art to be destroyed !" 

15 



338 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

On the next morning, her disease, having reached an 
artery, caused a large loss of blood. She was tranquil 
and resigned, saying, " It is the love of Jesus that sus- 
tains me." Her faintness was very great, and her 
situation most alarming. She exclaimed, "Flesh and 
heart fail me, but Jesus does not fail me !" To her 
medical attendant she said, "Do you love the Lord 
Jesus?" and on receiving a mark of assent, was grati- 
fied. Requesting those around her to pray, she added, 
" Pardon and acceptance ; nothing more." " Jesus," 
she said, " upheld her — he was her hope and her 
refuge." 

As the powers of nature became exhausted, a marked 
change betokened the approach of death. " It is death !" 
said the sufferer.* She seemed to feel no pain; no 
sigh or groan escaped her; her countenance was per- 
fectly calm, tranquil, and happy; and she kept her 
eyes steadily fixed on her husband, followed his every 
motion, and showing uneasiness if, for a moment, he 
moved from her side. Life seemed slowly ebbing 
away. 

" Once again her eyes brightened; her husband was 
leaning over her, and throwing her arm round his neck, 
and pressing his lips to hers, she exclaimed, with intense 
emphasis, ' I love you !' 

" All thought that these were her last words ; but it 
soon became evident that she was gathering her remain- 
ing strength for a last effort ; and then, with death in 
every look and tone, gasping between each word, but 
witii a loud, clear, distinct voice, she uttered these 
words, ' Tell them,' naming some dear Jewish friends, 

— ' tell them, that Jesus is the Messiah ; and tell ;' 

— her hand had forgotten its cunning ; her tongue was 
cleaving to the roof of her mouth; but Charlotte 

Similar were the last words of George tV.— uttered with feel- 
ings how different ! 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 339 

Elizabeth had not forgotten Jerusalem. Her breath- 
ings grew fainter and fainter; she was slightly con- 
vulsed, and at twenty minutes past two she fell asleep 
in Jesus." 

The inscription she requested to be placed on her 
tomb, closed by a passage of Scripture, accurately 
descriptive of her life and death, — " Looking unto 
Jesus." 



5. MRS. ELIZABETH FRY. 

" But the wide arms of mercy were spread to enfold thee, 
And sinners may die, for the Sinless hath died !" — Hebee. 

Who that is acquainted with the events of his own times 
does not hail with grateful acknowledgment the name of 
Elizabeth Fry — not only admirable as the succourer of 
the oppressed, but still better known as full of pity for 
the guilty? Newgate, the dark abode of the infamous 
and the sinner, was, through her instrumental agency, 
visited with light and love ; and many a poor wretch, 
who, till she knew her, had no better consolation than 
her own dark thoughts, became conscious, through her 
teaching, of a higher power above, and of a renewed and 
nobler nature within. Mrs. Fry, as is well known, was 
one of the Society of Friends. The Sunday preceding 
her illness was remarkable to her from the solemnity of 
the occasion. She had urged upon the meeting the 
question, " Are we all now ready ? If the Master should 
this day call us, is the work completely finished ? Have 
we anything left to do ?" — solemnly, almost awfully re- 
iterating the question, " Are we prepared ?" 

" One morning of acute suffering, the remark was 
made to her, how marvellous it was that she had never 
seemed impatient to depart, believing, as there was good 
ground to do, that she had been fitted for the great 



340 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

change. Her inherent fear of death had probably pre- 
vented this ; for there was something in her mind which, 
Avhilst she desired ' the kingdom,' caused her to shrink 
from the encounter with the great enemy — the last 
grapple before the victory can be won. But this, too, 
was altered: she expressed her ' entire willingness to 
stay the Lord's time;' that 'whilst there was any work 
to do, she wished to live,' but, beyond that, expressed 
not the smallest wish for life. She added that she had 
come to an entire belief, that any remaining dread would 
be taken away from her when the time came ; or that, 
- in tender mercy to her timid nature,' she should be 
permitted to pass unconsciously through the dark valley." 
The concluding scene is thus described : — 
" Some passages of Scripture were read to her, which 
she appeared to comprehend, and she entirely responded 
to any observation made to her. This was favourable, 
but other symptoms were not so — she lay so heavily, 
and the limbs appeared so wholly powerless. The 
morning broke at last, but it brought no comfort. 
About six o'clock, she said to her maid, ' Mary, dear 
Mary, I am very ill !' 

" ' I know it, dearest ma'am, I know it.' 
" ' Pray for me — it is a strife, but I am safe.' 
" She continued to speak, but indistinctly, at intervals, 
and frequently dozed, as she had done through the night. 
About nine o'clock, one of her daughters, sitting on the 
bedside, had open in her hand that passage in Isaiah, ' I 
the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto 
thee, Fear not ; I will help thee, fear not, thou worm 
Jacob, and ye men of Israel; I will help thee, saith the 
Lord, and thy Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel' Just 
then her mother roused a little, and in a slow distinct 
voice uttered these words, ' 0, my dear Lord, help and 
keep thy servant !' These were the last words she 
spoke on earth ; she never attempted to articulate again. 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 341 

A response was given, by reading to her the above most 
applicable passage; one bright glance of intelligence 
passed over her features — a look of recognition at the 
well-known sound — but it was gone as rapidly, and never 
returned. From this time, entire unconsciousness ap- 
peared to take possession of her; no sound disturbed 
her, no light affected her, the voice of affection was un- 
heeded — a veil was drawn between her and the world 
about her, to be raised no more. 

" . . . . Suddenly, about twenty minutes be- 
fore four, there was a change in her breathing : it was 
but for a moment. The silver cord was loosed — a few 
sighs at intervals, and no sound was there ! Unuttera- 
bly blessed was the holy calm — the perfect stillness of 
the chamber of death. She ' saw the King in his beauty, 
and the land that was very far off.' " 

" He that dies," says Lord Bacon, " in the prosecution 
of some earnest desire, is like one that is wounded in 
hot blood, who does not feel the blow. Therefore, a 
mind fixed and bent upon something that is good, steals 
from the pains of death." 



6. ELIZABETH MORTIMER. 

" Yet, Jesus, Jesus ! there I'll cling, 
I '11 crowd beneath his sheltering wing ; 
I '11 clasp the cross, and holding there, 
Even me — bliss !— his wrath may spare. — Kirke White. 

The parents of this eminently consistent Christian wo- 
man were attendants upon the ministry of Mr. Wesley; 
and from them she received a strictly religious educa- 
tion. In her sixteenth year she entered, with decided 
purpose, upon a course of Christian piety; and through 
all the vicissitudes of subsequent life, her biographer 
says, "the foundation of her future excellence was 



342 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

laid in deep as well as early piety, and being firmly 
based, the superstructure rose proportionably high. 
There was, in truth, a harmony of parts, a general sym- 
metry, that struck the eye of the beholder, and produced 
impressions of serene and graceful beauty, hallowing and 
refreshing to the mind." 

She was the intimate friend and correspondent of the 
Wesleys, of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher, of Lady Maxwell, 
and of others distinguished in the history of Methodism, 
and whose letters enrich her biography. 

Walking in the light and liberty of the Gospel, she 
endeavoured to adorn it, by the usefulness as well as 
the purity of her life. The sick, the poor, and the 
afflicted, were objects of her kind solicitude. She 
ministered to spiritual and temporal necessity, and 
often felt her sympathies excited by the destitution, 
misery, and ignorance which met her view. Thankful- 
ness for higher privileges, and a sense of the responsi- 
bility incurred by their possession, impressed her mind 
with salutary caution, lest the deposit should be negli- 
gently held. Self-denial she accounted an essential part 
of Christian discipline. 

In November, 1775, then twenty one years of age, 
she was appointed leader of a class. She was timidly 
conscious of her own deficiency for duties so weighty, 
but she dared not disobey the call of duty ; and, there- 
fore, in dependence upon heavenly succour, entered 
heartily into a work for which she was peculiarly 
adapted, by a natural ingenuous simplicity of character 
as well as by a lively and deep experience of the power 
of saving grace. Indeed, through her long Christian 
course, she was, in this department, eminently useful 
and acceptable. Clear in her own conceptions, unhesi- 
tating in her purposes, and uniformly vigilant, devout, 
and prayerful, she endeavoured to impress on those who 
sought her counsel, the same decision, earnestness, and 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 343 

spirituality of mind. Her manner was attractive, lively, 
unembarrassed, kind, familiar ; yet dignity attempered 
sweetness, and induced gratitude, affection, and respect. 
The sphere in which she moved for many years, afforded 
ample scope for the employment of her talents in this 
interesting line. How often she was made the minister 
of mercy, in confirming the believer, in encouraging the 
mourner, in directing admonition to the trifling and 
lukewarm, and in addressing words of wisdom to the 
ignorant, the records of eternity will show. 

Two years later she was reduced to apparently- the last 
stage of consumption. While in this state, Mr. Wesley 
visited her, and the minute he makes of his visit in his 
journal, at once shows her condition, and attests the high 
consideration in which she was held by him. 

"On Friday, May 9th, 1777," he says, "I went to 
Malton, hoping to meet Miss Ritchie (the maiden name 
of Mrs. Mortimer) there ; but instead of her I found a 
letter, which informed me that she was on the brink of 
the grave, but added, ' Surely my Lord will permit me 
to see you once more in the body.' I would not disap- 
point the congregation, but as soon as I had done preach- 
ing; set out, and about four in the morning came to 
Otley. I minutely inquired into the circumstances of 
her illness. She is dropped suddenly into the third 
stage of a consumption, having one or more ulcers in 
her lungs, spitting blood, having a continued pain in her 
breast, and a constant hectic fever, which disables her 
either from riding on horseback, or bearing the motion 
of a carriage ; meantime, she breathes nothing but praise 
and love. Short-lived flower, and ripe for a, better soil !" 
He writes again : " After preaching in the evening at 
Leeds, I pushed on to Otley. Here I found E. Ritchie 
weaker and happier than ever. I spent half an hour 
with her, to 

' Teach at once, and learn of her, to die.' 



344 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

And again: "Thursday, June 5th. About noon I 
came to Otley, and found B. R. just alive ; but all alive 
to God. In the evening it seemed as if the departing 
saint had dropped her mantle upon the congregation, — 
such an awe rested upon them while I explained and 
applied, ' They were all filled with the Holy Ghost/ 

"Monday, 9th. I spent one hour more at Otley. 
Spectaculum Deo dignum ! I have not before seen so 
triumphant an instance of the power of faith. Though 
in constant pain, she makes no complaint. So does the 
glory of God overshadow her, and swallow up her will 
in his ; she is indeed all praise, all meekness, and all 
love." 

From this sickness, however, after lingering several 
months, she was unexpectedly restored. 

After her marriage to Harvey Walklake Mortimer, 
Esq., her residence became fixed in London and vicinity; 
and here, though called to exercise her talents in a new 
direction, they were not less successfully or usefully 
employed. Many of her early friends and associates 
passed before her into their rest, and in 1819 she was 
afflicted by the sudden demise of her affectionate and 
worthy husband. Thenceforth she seemed like a saint 
ripe for heaven, and only waiting for the time of her 
release. 

Under the sustaining influence of immortal hope, the 
last season of life may be contemplated not only with- 
out dismay, but with serene and holy joy. The traveller 
is within sight of his home ; the pilgrim has nearly es- 
caped the perils of the wilderness ; the long-absent son 
is on the eve of admittance to the paternal mansion ; 
the saint is on the verge of heaven, in the precincts of 
the vision of God. The hoary head is a crown of glory, 
when found in the way of righteousness ; and the haloes 
that encircle it are as wreaths of light, which shine to 
cheer and animate in their progress those who are as 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 345 

yet at a farther distance from the goal. But faith, which 
gives subsistence to things unseen, and is the evidence 
of anticipated realities, is the only principle that can 
disperse the shadows, and dispel the gloom, which will 
otherwise collect and settle heavily around the chill and 
cheerless evening of departing life. 

Mrs. Mortimer was brought within the verge of four- 
score years, when mortal sickness made its last and 
irresistible attack. Its precursors were excessive lan- 
guor, and such infirmities as flesh is heir to when stand- 
ing on the borders of the grave. 

But there were seasons when overwhelming languor, 
for a while, was superseded by the efforts of the loftier 
principle within ; when faith and hope, with holy energy, 
seemed to exalt her on expanded wings to heaven, and 
to give the foretaste of approaching bliss. Her richest 
views, as well as her sublimest and most hallowed feel- 
ings, were elicited in conversation with the friends who, 
in some favourable moments, were so happy as to catch 
the sparks of light and love that emanated from her 
spirit, cheering the gloom and solitude of sickness, and 
discovering death to be a stingless though a direful foe. 

The state of her mind at this crisis, is well expressed 
in a message sent to two friends : — " Tell Mr. and Mrs. 
M.," said she, "that I am waiting in expectation of a 
great change. Changes, you know, are often causes of 
apprehension, because they may be for the worse. But 
that is not my case. I am anticipating my change with 
joy, because I have a rational, Scriptural, well-grounded 
hope, that it will be for the better. It will be to a state 
where there is no suffering, no pain, no infirmity ; where 
1 shall behold my Saviour, and be forever filled with his 
love ! It will be ail glory ! But I have no distinct con- 
ception of what it will be like. I can form no idea of 
that which is infinite. My mind is lost when I attempt 
to realize it. But my Saviour is my rock, and my 

15* 



346 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

refuge, and I rejoice in the blessed hope of everlasting 
life with him." 

A beaming joy overspread her countenance while 
giving utterance to these expressions, which were pro- 
nounced at intervals, with deep solemnity, and seemed 
to issue from a sainted spirit on the confines of the world 
of light. 

Her power of recollection became somewhat impaired 
as age and infirmity advanced upon her. Of this she 
was quite conscious, and observed : "My faculties fail. 
When I think of one subject, if another strikes my mind, 
I lose the first idea ; neither can I fully express what I 
mean to say." 

" Your faculties," said a friend, who wished to relieve 
her from something like embarrassment, " will soon be 
renewed in immortal vigour. The subjects of your early 
recollections are nearly all of them gone into eternity ; 
both the persons and their concerns are passed away." 

With rekindling animation, she replied, "Yes, the 
world passes away, and everything connected with it 
perishes ; but ' he that doeth the will of God abideth 
forever.' " 

"It is," said her friend, "a delightful thought, that 
there is something permanent, even though we live in a 
world so subject to change; God is immutable, and so 
is the heaven in which he dwells. Our spirits, too, are 
immortal, and shall soon find their unchanging portion 
there." 

" On that," she said, " I love to meditate. I look 
backward on a long line of passing shadows, but I can- 
not see far forward." 

Again adverting to her want of distinct ideas on the 
subject of the future glory, " A Christian," it was ob- 
served, " whether he looks backward or forward, finds 
occasions for gratitude, and hope, and love. He can say, 
' Goodness and mercy have followed me all my days.' v 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 347 

" Yes," she added, " ' and I shall dwell in the house 
of the Lord forever.' But there is occasion for humility. 
The past might have been more diligently improved." 

" It would be a painful retrospect," said her friend, 
" were it not for the blood of atonement." 

" It would be dreadful ! dreadful!" she exclaimed, with 
great emphasis, " but — 

1 His blood for me did once atone, 
And still it pleads before the throne.' " 

A few weeks before she was removed, a friend re- 
marked, that she had served a good Master, from the age 
of sixteen to eighty, and that He would not now forsake 
her. With a most expressive look and manner, she 
said : " Poor service ! unprofitable service ! but I cast 
myself on the atoning sacrifice, and there I find rest and 
peace." 

At another time, in an interview with Mrs. Wilkinson, 
she said, " Speak of heaven. 0, what a company is 
there !" To the same friend, on her expressing an as- 
surance that she would end well, she replied, lifting up 
her hands and eyes, " Yes ; and why? Because I have 
an Intercessor, in whom I have power to rest ; for re- 
member I have nothing wherein to trust but Christ. I 
have no deservings, no merit." 

In her silent and solitary hours she meditated much 
on reunion with departed saints. "I cannot express," 
she would sometimes say, " how I exult in the anticipa- 
tion of soon rejoining those friends from whom I have 
been separated here below ; yet it seems strange that, 
although so near to the world of spirits, I cannot see 
them." 

It was observed, that "that world was now visible to 
the eye of faith alone, but she would soon drop the veil, 
and then faith would be exchanged for sight. Now, she 
was saved by hope, then she would be admitted to realize 



348 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

in full fruition her anticipated heaven." Holy joy illu- 
mined her sweet and venerable, but emaciated counte- 
nance, and spoke entire assent to what had been advanced. 
Prayer, and a solemn benediction, pronounced with most 
impressive emphasis, concluded this affecting interview, 
which seemed preparative to the converse of the heirs 
of heaven. It was consecrated by the presence of the 
Saviour, doubtless by that of his angelic ministries, and 
why not also by that of glorified and sainted friends ? 
How hallowed are such scenes! Disease may weigh 
down the corruptible frame of the dying Christian, and, 
like a haze in the lower atmosphere, obscure the beams 
of the intellectual sun ; but the light of heaven breaks 
through the dimness, and reveals visions of glory, even 
amidst the desolations of the valley of the shadow of 
death. 

When the mandate of dismission should arrive, she 
was prepared to welcome it ; but till her summons came, 
she was content to suffer, as under other circumstances 
she had sought to do, the will of God. About a month 
before her death, she requested to receive the ordinance 
of the Lord's Supper, which was solemnly administered 
to her by her son, the Rev. Thomas Mortimer, B. D. 
Her family and two friends were admitted to join with 
her on this interesting occasion. It was a prelude to 
tasting of the "new wine" at the richer banquet pre- 
pared for saints in heaven. 

On the 9th of April, the day of her departure, she lay 
as in a tranquil sleep. Toward evening her respiration 
became short and quick, till about seven o'clock, when, 
almost imperceptibly, she breathed her last. The shaft 
of death was pointless ; his approach was without terror, 
and his commission, to all appearance, executed without 
pain. Neither groan nor struggle indicated suffering, 
while the spirit took its flight from the terrestrial, shat- 
tered tabernacle to the felicities and joys of paradise. 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 349 

Her end was perfect peace. She was interred in the 
burying ground of the City-Road Chapel, on Thursday, 
April 16th; and the solemn event was improved by 
Dr. Bunting, in a funeral sermon, on the 26th of the 
same month. 



7. HANNAH HOUSMAN. 

1 ' What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, 
The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy, 
Is virtue's prize." 

This amiable and exemplary woman was one of those 
who remember their Creator in the days of their youth. 
She was a native of Kidderminster. In her childhood 
she enjoyed the advantages of a religious education; 
and such was the blessing of God upon her early privi- 
leges, that she appears, from her diary, to have been 
under lively religious impressions at thirteen years of 
age. For twenty-four years she seems to have humbly 
and circumspectly walked with God. In her dying 
hours she had such foretastes of the joy to come as 
richly rewarded her for all the conflicts of this proba- 
tionary scene; and in her triumphant departure, let 
the young behold an animating and encouraging reason 
for early piety. 

The following account of her last illness and death 
was drawn up by a person who witnessed her sufferings 
and her comforts : — 

From the time of her first seizure she was exercised 
with very violent pains without any intermission till her 
death; such as, she would often say, she thought she 
could not have borne. " But," said she, " God is good ; 
verily he is good to me ! Through life I have found 
him a good and gracious God." 

When recovering from extreme pain, she said, " God 



350 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

is good ; I have found him so : and though he slay me, 
yet I will trust in him. These pains make me love my 
Lord Jesus the better. they put me in mind of 
what he suffered to purchase salvation for my poor 
soul ! Why for me, Lord ! why for me, the greatest of 
sinners? Why for me, who so long refused the rich 
offers of thy grace, and the kind invitations of the Gos- 
pel? How many helps and means have I enjoyed more 
than many others ; yea, above most ! I had a religious 
father and mother ; and I had access to a valuable 
minister, to whom I could often and freely open my 
mind. I have lived in a golden age. I have lived in 
peaceable times, and have enjoyed great advantages 
and helps for communion with God, and the peace of 
my own mind ; for which I owe my gracious God and 
Father more praises than words can express. Bless 
the Lord, my soul, and all that is within me bless 
his holy name ! Bless the Lord, my soul, and forget 
not all, or any of his benefits !" 

When any were weeping or mourning over her, she 
would say, "Weep not for me: it is the will of God; 
therefore be content. If it may be for his honour and 
glory, he will spare me a little longer ; if not, I am 
wholly resigned to the will of God. I am content to 
stay here as long as he has anything for me to do or 
to suffer; and I am willing to go, if it be my Father's 
good pleasure. Therefore be content, and say, 'It is 
the Lord, let him do what seemeth to him good.' " 

To a person who came to see her, she said, " Cousin, 
I think I shall die : and now what a comfort it is that 
I am not afraid of death ! The blood of Christ cleanses 
me from all sin. But mistake me not ; there must be 
a life and conversation agreeable to the Gospel, or else 
our faith in Christ is a dead faith. Secure Christ for 
your friend : set not your heart on things below ; riches 
and honours, and what the world calls pleasures, are all 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 351 

fading, perishing things." She then threw out her 
hand, and said, " 0, if I had thousands and ten thou- 
sands of gold and silver lying by me, what could they 
do for me, now I am dying? Take the advice of a 
departing friend who wishes you well. Do not set 
your affections on riches, or on anything here below. 
Eemember, death will come in a little -while, whether 
you are ready or unready, willing or unwilling. I com- 
mend you to God. I hope, in a short time, we shall 
meet again in heaven, that place of perfect rest, peace, 
and happiness." 

The whole time of her sickness she was in a cheer- 
ful, thankful frame of mind. When she was cold, and 
had something warm given her, she often said, — 
"Blessed be God for all his mercies; and for this 
comfort in my affliction." On her attendant's warm- 
ing a piece of flannel, and putting it round her cold 
hands, she thanked her for it, and said, " how many 
mercies I have ! I want for nothing. Here is every- 
thing I can wish for. I can say I never wanted any 
good thing. I wish only for a tranquil passage to 
glory. It was free grace that plucked me from the 
very brink of hell ; and it is the power of Divine grace 
that has supported me through the whole of my life. 
Hitherto I can say the Lord is gracious. He has been 
very merciful to me in sustaining me under all my 
trials. The Lord brings affliction; but it is not be- 
cause he delights to afflict his children — it is at all 
times for our profit. I can say it has been good for me 
to be afflicted; it has enabled me to discern things, 
which, when I was in health, I could not perceive. It 
has made me see more of the vanity and emptiness of 
this world, and all its delusive pleasures ; for, at best, 
they are but vanity. I can say, from my own expe- 
rience, I have found them to be so many a time." 

To her husband, the clay before she died, she said, 



352 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

" My dear, I think I am going apace ; and I hope you 
will be satisfied, because it is the will of God. You 
have at all times been very loving and good to me; 
and I thank you for it kindly : and now I desire you 
freely to resign me to God. If God sees it best to 
prolong my stay here upon earth, I am willing to stay ; 
or if he sees it best to take me to himself, I am willing 
to go. I am willing to be and bear what may be most 
for his glory." 

The evening before she died she found death stealing 
upon her; and, feeling her own pulse, said, "Well, it 
will be but a little while before my work in this world 
will be finished. Then I shall have done with prayer. 
My whole employment in heaven will be praise and 
love. Here I love God but faintly, yet I hope sin- 
cerely; but there it will be perfectly. I shall behold 
his face in righteousness ; for I am thy servant, Lord, 
bought with blood — with precious blood. Christ died 
to purchase the life of my soul. A little while, and 
then I shall be singing that sweet song, ' Blessing, and 
honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth 
upon the throne, and to the Lamb forever and ever.' " 

With smiles on her face, and transports of joy, she 
often said, "Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly! Why 
tarry the wheels of thy chariot? blessed convoy! 
come, and fetch my soul, to dwell with God, and 
Christ, and perfect spirits, forever and ever. When I 
join that blessed society above, my pleasures will never 
end. the glory — the glory that shall be set on the 
head of faith and love !" 

A few minutes before her departure, finding herself 
going, she desired to be lifted up. When this was done, 
she cheerfully said, " Farewell, sin ! farewell, pains !" — 
and so finished her course with joy. 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 353 



8. ELIZABETH HOWE. 

''Death is an equal doom 
To good and "bad, the common inn of rest ; 
But after death the trial is to come, 
When hest shall he to them who lived best." — Spenser. 

In every age religion has found many of its most de- 
voted friends among the softer sex. Women minis- 
tered to the Saviour when he had scarcely a place to 
lay his head, and watched beside his cross when his 
own disciples forsook him. They welcomed his resur- 
rection from the grave, and to them he first appeared; 
and still, wherever the Gospel of salvation spreads, it 
will be found that female hearts, in the largest pro- 
portion, yield to the gentle sway of the Lord Jesus 
Christ. 

Elizabeth Rowe is one of those who adorned the 
Gospel in life, who enjoyed its supports in death, and 
who doubtless shine as stars in the firmament forever. 
And let the young, especially, consider that the piety of 
this amiable woman was early piety. She sought the 
path of peace in youth. Her course was like that of 
the sun. In the morning of life her religion appeared, 
and shone more and more unto the perfect day. 

Her maiden name was Singer. She had a sister dis- 
tinguished for her early and amiable graces, of whose 
death the following. remarkable account was given by 
Mrs. Rowe to Dr. Coleman, of Boston, who sent it in 
a letter to the eminently pious Isaac Watts. The 
account is strange, but by no means incredible to 
those w T ho believe that effectual fervent prayer avail- 
eth much : — 

" It was in my sister's death," said Mrs. Rowe, 
when giving the account, "that my father was to be 



354 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

tried ; but it was I that was taken sick : and when the 
physicians let them know my great danger, and the 
little hope they had of my recovery, this dear sister 
came to me with a visible concern, and earnestly be- 
sought me to tell her whether I was ready and willing 
to die if God should call me from them by this sick- 
ness, for she was afraid I should die, and she could not 
comfortably part with me but to go to Christ; she 
hoped, therefore, that my interest in him was comfort- 
able and clear." 

"I earnestly turned to her, and said, 'Why, sister, 
do they think me in such hazard ? I must confess to 
you that my distress would be great on account of my 
soul if I thought my death were now coming, for I have 
not that full assurance of my interest in Christ which I 
have always begged of God I might have before he 
pleases to call me hence.' 

" No sooner had she heard me say this than she fell, 
as in an agony, on her knees, by my bed-side, and in a 
manner inexpressible, for fervour and humility, besought 
the Lord, 'that if her father must have the grief of 
burying one of his children, it might be her ; for through 
his free grace, and to the glory of it, she could joyfully 
profess before him her assured hope of her interest in 
his everlasting mercy, through Jesus Christ ; wherefore 
she could willingly surrender herself to die if it might 
please God to grant her sister a further space for making 
her calling and election sure.' 

" Having prayed thus, in a transport the most sur- 
prising and astonishing to me," said Mrs. Rowe, " she 
earnestly kissed me, and left the room, without giving 
me time or power to answer her a word ; and what is 
almost impossible to relate, from that hour or two I 
grew better, and recovered; but she took to her bed, 
and died in a few days." 

The life thus remarkably prolonged was spent for 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 355 

God ; and her views in the prospect of eternity are 
expressed in a letter accompanying her " Meditations," 
and opened after her decease. The following passage 
is an extract from it : — 

" The reflections were occasionally written, and only 
for my own improvement ; but I am not without hope 
that they may have the same salutary effect on some 
pious minds as the reading the experiences of others 
has had on my own soul. The experimental part of 
religion has generally a greater influence than the 
theory of it ; and if, when I am sleeping in the dust, 
those soliloquies should kindle a flame of Divine love, 
even in the heart of the lowest and most despised 
Christian, be the glory given to the great Spring of all 
grace and benignity ! 

" I have now done with mortal things, and all to come 
is vast eternity — eternity! How transporting is the 
sound ! As long as God exists, my being and happi- 
ness are, I doubt not, secure. These unbounded de- 
sires, which the wide creation cannot limit, shall be 
satisfied forever. I shall drink at the fountain-head of 
pleasure, and be refreshed with the emanations of ori- 
ginal life and joy. I shall hear the voice of uncreated 
harmony speaking peace and ineffable consolation to 
my soul. 

" I expect eternal life, not as a reward of merit, but 
as a pure act of bounty. Detesting myself in every 
view I can take, 1 fly to the righteousness and atone- 
ment of my great Redeemer for pardon and salvation : 
this is my only consolation and hope. Enter not into 
judgment, Lord, with thy servant ; for in thy sight 
shall no flesh be justified. Through the blood of the 
Lamb I hope for an entire victory over the last enemy : 
and that, before this comes to you, I shall have reached 
the celestial heights ; and, while you are reading these 
lines, I shall be adoring before the throne of God, 



356 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

where faith shall be turned into vision, and these lan- 
guishing desires satisfied with the full fruition of im- 
mortal love." Amen. 



9. JANE RATCLIFF. 

"And when the closing scenes prevail, 
When wealth, state, pleasure, all shall fail ; 
All that a foolish world admires, 
Or passion craves, or pride inspires ; 
At that important hour of need 
Jesus shall prove a friend indeed. 
His hand shall smooth thy dying bed, 
His arm sustain thy drooping head ; 
And when the painful struggle 's o'er, 
And that vain thing, the world, no more, 
He '11 bear his humble friend away, 
To rapture and eternal day. 
Come, then, be his in every part, 
Nor give him less than all your heart." — Cotton. 

Jane Ratcliff was born in the year 1638. Her ex- 
traordinary faith and piety render her a suitable sub- 
ject for these memoirs. 

In early life she indulged herself in many of the fol- 
lies and vanities of her time ; but being awakened to a 
sense of their fatal tendency, she renounced them, and 
placed her affections on objects which alone can confer 
solid and durable enjoyment. We shall pass over the 
intermediate parts of her circumspect life, and come to 
the closing scene of it, when she appeared to be much 
raised above the love of life and the fears of death. The 
following is an extract from her own expressions on that 
solemn occasion. At the same time that they manifest 
her desire to be released from the sorrows and dangers 
of mortality, there can be no doubt that it was limited 
by an humble submission and pious resignation to the 
will of Heaven : — 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 357 

" I desire to die," said she, " because I want, while I 
live here, the glorious presence of God, which I love, 
and long for; and the sweet fellowship of angels and 
saints, who would be as glad to see me with them as I 
should be to see them about me, and who would enter- 
tain me with unwearied delight. 

" I desire to die — because, while I live, I shall want 
the perfection of my nature, and be as an estranged and 
banished child from my Father's house. 

" I desire to die — because I would not live to offend 
so good a God, and grieve his Holy Spirit; for his 
loving-kindness is better than life, and he is abundant 
in mercy to me, and the fear of displeasing him often 
lies as a heavy load upon my heart. 

" I desire to die — because this world is generally in- 
fected with the plague of sin, and I myself am tainted 
with the same disease; so that, while I live here, I 
shall be in danger of being infected or of infecting 
others. And if this world hates me, because I en- 
deavour to follow goodness, how would it rejoice if my 
foot should slip ! How woeful would my life be to me 
if I should give occasion to the world to triumph and 
blaspheme ! There are in my nature so many defects, 
errors, and transgressions, that I may say with David, 
' Innumerable evils have compassed me about ; my ini- 
quities have taken hold on me, so that I am not able to 
look up.' I therefore desire heaven for holiness, and 
to the end that I may sin no more. 

" I desire to die — because nothing in this world can 
give me solid and durable enjoyment. 

" With regard to my children, I am not troubled ; for 
that God who has given them life and breath, and all 
they have, while I am living, can provide for them 
when I am dead. My God will be their God, if they 
be his ; and if they be not, what comfort would it be 
for me to live to behold it ? Life would be bitter to me 



358 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

if I should see them dishonour God, whom I so greatly 
love. 

" I fear not death — because it is but the separation of 
the soul from the body ; and that is but a shadow of the 
body of death : Romans vii, 24. Whereas the separa- 
tion of the soul from God by sin, and of soul and body 
for sin, is death indeed: Isa. lix, 2. 

" I fear not death — because it is an enemy that has 
been often vanquished, and because I am armed for it, 
and the weapons of my warfare are mighty through 
God, and I am assured of victory. 

" I do not fear death for the pain of it ; for I am per- 
suaded 1 have endured as great pain in life, as I shall 
find in death, and death will cure me of all sorts of pain. 
Besides, Christ died a terrible death, to the end any 
kind of death might be blessed to me. And that God 
who has greatly loved me in life, will not neglect me in 
death ; but will, by his Spirit, succour and strengthen 
me all the time of the combat." 

For her comfort in her last hours, she put into the 
following form some memoirs of the principal mercies 
and blessings she had received from God : — 

"How shall I praise God for my conversion? for his 
word, both in respect of my affection to it, and the won- 
derful comforts I have had from it? for hearing my 
prayers? for godly sorrow? for fellowship with the 
godly? for joy in the Holy Spirit? for the desire of 
death? for contempt of the world? for private helps and 
comforts ? for giving me some strength against my sins ? 
for preserving me from gross evils, both before and after 
my calling ?" 

In her last sickness, which was of long continuance, 
she was deeply sensible of the dangers and miseries that 
attend our progress through life, and often implored God 
to remove her into a better world, saying in the words 
of David : " Make haste to help me, Lord, my salva- 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 359 

tion! Be pleased, Lord, to deliver me! Lord, 
make haste to help me !" And she was relieved in the 
tenderest manner; for her spirit departed from the 
body, when it was thought she had only fallen asleep. 
She died in the year 1638. 



10. LADY RACHEL RUSSEL. 

" 'Tis immortality, — 'tis that alone, 
Amidst life's pains, abasements, emptiness, 
The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill."— Young. 

Lady Rachel Russel, daughter of the earl of South- 
ampton, was born about the year 1636. She appears to 
have possessed a truly noble mind, a solid understand- 
ing, an amiable and a benevolent temper. Her pious 
resignation, and religious deportment, under the pressure 
of very deep distress, afforded a highly instructive ex- 
ample, and an eminent instance of the power of religion 
to sustain the mind, in the greatest storms and dangers, 
when the waves of affliction threaten to overwhelm it. 

It is well known, that the husband of this lady, Wil- 
liam, Lord Russel, was beheaded in the reign of Charles 
the Second; that he was a man of great merit; and that 
he sustained the execution of his severe sentence with 
Christian and invincible fortitude. During the period 
of her illustrious husband's troubles, she conducted her- 
self with a mixture of the most tender affection, and the 
most surprising magnanimity. She appeared in court at 
his trial ; and when the attorney-general told him, " He 
might employ the hand of one of his servants in waiting, 
to take notes of the evidence for his use," Lord Russel 
answered, " that he asked none, but that of the lady who 
sat by him." The spectators, at these words, turned 
their eyes, and beheld the daughter of the virtuous 
Southampton rising up to assist her lord in this his 



360 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

utmost distress : a thrill of anguish ran through the as- 
sembly. After his condemnation, she threw herself at 
the king's feet, and pleaded, but alas ! in vain, the merits 
and loyalty of her father, in order to save her husband. 

When the time of separation came, her conduct ap- 
pears to be worthy of the highest admiration ; for with- 
out a sigh or tear, she took her last farewell of her 
husband, though it might have been expected, as they 
were so happy in each other, and no wife could possibly 
surpass her in affection, that the torrent of her distress 
would have overflowed its banks, and been too mighty 
for restraint. Lord Bussel parted from his lady with a 
composed silence ; and observing how greatly she was 
supported, said, after she was gone : " The bitterness of 
death is now past;" for he loved and esteemed her be- 
yond expression. He declared, that " she had been a 
great blessing to him; and observed, that he should 
have been miserable, if she had not possessed so great 
magnanimity of spirit joined to her tenderness, as never 
to have desired him to do a base thing to save his life." 
He said, " there was a signal providence of God, in giv- 
ing him such a wife, in whom were united noble birth 
and fortune, great understanding, great religion, and 
great kindness to himself; but that her behaviour in his 
extremity, exceeded all." 

After the death of her lord upon the scaffold, this ex- 
cellent woman, encompassed with the darkest clouds of 
affliction, seemed to be absorbed in a religious concern, 
to behave properly under the afflicting hand of God, and 
to fulfil the duties now devolved upon herself alone, in 
the care, education, disposal, and happiness, of her 
children. 

To Lady Essex, she wrote as follows : — 

" I beseech God one day to speak peace to our afflicted 
minds, and not to suffer us to be disappointed of our 
great hope. But we must wait for our day of consolation, 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 361 

till this world passes away; an unkind and trustless 
world this has been to us. Yfhy it has been such, God 
knows best. All his dispensations serve the end of his 
providence. They are ever beautiful, and must be good, 
and good to every one of us ; and even these dismal 
ones are so to us, if we can bear evidence to our own 
souls that we are better for our afflictions, which is often 
the case with those who suffer wrongfully. We may 
reasonably believe our friends have found that rest we 
yet but hope for ; and what better comfort can you or I 
desire, in this valley of the shadow of death we are walk- 
ing through? The rougher our path is, the more de- 
lightful and ravishing will be the great change." 

She survived Lord Russel about forty years, and con- 
, tinued his widow to the end of her life. She died in the 
year 1723, in the 87th year of her age. Her continued 
hope and trust in Him who had been the staff of her 
life, and her support in affliction, is evidenced by the 
following declaration, made not long before the end of 
her days : — 

" God has not denied me the support of his Holy 
Spirit, in this my long day of calamity ; but he has en- 
abled me, in some measure, to rejoice in him as my 
portion forever. He has provided a remedy for all our 
griefs, by his sure promises of another life, where there 
is no death, nor any pain nor trouble, but fulness of joy, 
in the presence of Him who made us, and who will love 
us forever." 



11. QUEEN MARY. 

MARY, queen of Great Britain, and consort of King 
William the Third, was the daughter of James the 
Second, and was born in the year 1661. She appeared 
to be happily disposed from very early life, being good 

16 



362 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and gentle before she was capable of knowing that it 
was her duty to be so. This temper continued with her 
through the whole progress of her childhood. She 
might need instruction, but she wanted no persuasion. 
And it is said that she never once, in the whole course 
of her education, gave occasion for reproof. Besides a 
most amiable sweetness of temper, she possessed great 
understanding, and a mind cultivated w T ith useful learn- 
ing and knowledge. 

She was married in the sixteenth year of her age, to 
the prince of Orange, and went to reside in Holland, 
w 7 here she conducted herself with so much wisdom and 
goodness as to gain universal esteem and affection. 
But that which was, beyond all comparison, her greatest 
ornament and possession, was a truly devout and reli- . 
gious temper, which made her look with indifference on 
the honours and splendour with which she was sur- 
rounded, and seek for her highest enjoyment in doing 
good, in peace of mind, and in the hope of a better life. 

This good queen spent a great part of her time in 
perusing the Holy Scriptures and other religious books. 
By a letter to her father, written in early life, in sup- 
port of the Protestant faith, she appears to have been 
thoroughly grounded and established in the principles of 
the Reformation. Bishop Burnet says, that " although 
he had a high opinion of the princess's good understand- 
ing before he saw this letter, yet the letter surprised 
him, and gave him an astonishing joy, to see so young a 
person, all on a sudden, without consulting any one, 
able to write in so solid and learned a manner." 

The piety of this excellent person was a noble sup- 
port to her under the troubles of life ; yet there were 
some distresses to which it gave a sharper edge. The 
impieties and blasphemies, the open contempt of religion, 
and the scorn of virtue, which she heard of from many 
persons, and from many different parts of the nation, 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 363 

gave her a secret horror, and presented her with so 
gloomy a prospect as filled her mind with melancholy 
reflections. She was very sensibly touched, when she 
heard that some, who pretended to much zeal for the 
crown and the revolution, seemed thence to think they 
had a sort of right to be indulged in their licentiousness 
and irregularities. She often said, " Can a blessing be 
expected from such hands, or on anything that must 
pass through them ?" 

In her brightest seasons, she did not suffer herself to 
be lulled into security, nor did she withdraw her depen- 
dence upon God. In the pleasures of life, she main- 
tained a true indifference as to their continuance, and 
seemed to think of parting with them, in so easy a man- 
ner as plainly showed how little possession they had of 
her heart. 

At one period of her life, she felt such indisposition 
of body as induced her to believe that some great sick- 
ness was approaching; but, on this occasion, she pos- 
sessed great quietude and resignation, and said, "that 
though she did not pray for death, yet she could neither 
wish nor pray against it. She left that to God, and re- 
ferred herself to the disposal of Providence. If she did 
not wish for death, yet she did not fear it." 

As this was the state of her mind when she viewed 
that event at some distance, so she maintained the same 
composure on its near approach. The end of this ex- 
traordinary queen was, indeed, such as might have been 
expected from the pure and exemplary life she had 
lived. W hen she was first informed of the danger to be 
apprehended from her disorder, (which was the small- 
pox,) she calmly said : "I have been instructed how 
very hazardous a thing it is to rely upon a death-bed 
repentance ; 1 am not now to begin the great work of 
preparing for death, and, I praise God, I am not afraid 
of it." 



364 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

Under the weight of her disorder, which was very 
trying to nature, she appeared to feel no inward depres- 
sion or discouragement of mind. A willingness to die, 
and an entire resignation to the will of God, accom- 
panied her to the closing scene; in the near approach 
of which she declared, that " she experienced the joys of 
a good conscience, and the power of religion giving her 
supports, which even the last agonies could not shake." 

Thus died this most excellent princess ; and, no doubt, 
passed from an earthly to a heavenly crown, " a crown 
of glory that shall never fade away." 



12. LADY JANE GREY. 

"Though unseen by human eye, 
My Redeemer's hand is nigh ; 
He has poured salvation's light 
Far within the vale of night." — Klopstock. 

This excellent personage was descended from the royal 
line of England, by both her parents. She was carefully 
educated in the principles of the Reformation. Besides 
the solid endowments of piety and virtue, she possessed 
the most engaging disposition, and the most accom- 
plished parts. Being of an equal age with King Edward 
VI., she received her education with him, and seemed 
x even to possess a greater facility in acquiring every part 
of manly and classical literature. She attained a know- 
ledge of the Roman and Greek languages, as w T ell as of 
several modern tongues, passed most of her time in ap- 
plication to learning, and expressed a great indifference 
for the occupations and amusements usual with persons 
of her sex and station. Roger Ascham, tutor to the 
princess Elizabeth, having at one time paid her a visit, 
found her employed in reading Plato, while the rest of 
the family were engaged in a party of hunting in the 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 365 

park; and upon his admiring the singularity of her 
choice, she told him, that " she received more pleasure 
from that author, than others could reap from all their 
sports and gayety." 

This amiable lady fell an innocent victim to the wild 
ambition of the duke of Northumberland, who having 
effected a marriage between her and his son, Lord Guild- 
ford Dudley, raised her to the throne of England, in 
defiance of the rights of the princesses Mary and Eliza- 
beth. At the time of her marriage, she was but eighteen 
years of age, and her husband was also very young. 

Her heart, replete with the love of literature and seri- 
ous studies, and with tenderness towards her husband, 
who was deserving of her affection, had never opened 
itself to the flattering allurements of ambition ; and the 
information of her advancement to the throne, was by 
no means agreeable to her. She even refused to accept 
the crown, pleaded the superior right of the two prin- 
cesses, expressed her dread of the consequences attend- 
ing an enterprise so dangerous, not to say so criminal, 
and desired to remain in that private station in which 
she was born. Overcome at last by the entreaties, 
rather than by the reasons, of her father and father-in- 
law, and, above all, of her husband, she submitted to 
their will, and was prevailed on to relinquish her own 
judgment. But her elevation was of very short con- 
tinuance. The nation declared for Queen Mary; and 
Lady Jane Grey, after wearing the vain pageantry of a 
crown during ten days, returned to a private life, with 
much more satisfaction than she could have felt when 
royalty was tendered to her. 

Queen Mary, who appears to have been incapable of 
generosity or clemency, determined to remove every 
person from whom the least danger could be appre- 
hended. Warning was, therefore, given to Lady Jane 
to prepare for death ; a doom which she had expected, 



366 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and which the innocence of her life, as well as the mis- 
fortunes to which she had been exposed, rendered no 
unwelcome news to her. 

The queen's bigoted zeal, under colour of tender 
mercy to the prisoner's soul, induced her to send priests, 
who molested her with perpetual disputation ; and even 
a reprieve of three days was granted her, in hopes that 
she would be persuaded, during that time, to pay, by a 
timely conversion to Popery, some regard to her eternal 
welfare. Lady Jane had presence of mind, in those 
melancholy circumstances, not only to defend her reli- 
gion by solid arguments, but also to write a letter to her 
sister, in the Greek language, in which she exhorted 
her to maintain, in every fortune, a like steady perse- 
verance. 

On the day of her execution, her husband, Lord Guild- 
ford, desired permission to see her ; but she refused her 
consent, and sent him word, that the tenderness of their 
parting would overcome the fortitude of both, and would 
too much unbend their minds from that constancy 
w T hich their approaching end required. Their separa- 
tion, she said, would be only for a moment ; and they 
would soon rejoin each other in a scene where their af- 
fections would be forever united, and where death, dis- 
appointments, and misfortunes, could no longer have 
access to them, or disturb their eternal felicity. 

It had been intended to execute the Lady Jane and 
her husband on the same scaffold, at Tower-hill ; but 
the council dreading the compassion of the people for 
their youth, beauty, innocence, and noble birth, changed 
their orders, and gave directions that they should be be- 
headed within the verge of the Tower. She saw her 
husband led to execution ; and, having given him from 
the window some token of her remembrance, waited with 
tranquillity till her own appointed hour should bring her 
to a like fate. She even saw his headless body carried 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 367 

back in a cart, and found herself more confirmed by the 
reports which she heard of the constancy of his end, than 
shaken by so tender and melancholy a spectacle. Sir 
John Gage, constable of the Tower, when he led her to 
execution, desired her to bestow on him some small 
present, which he might keep as a perpetual memorial 
of her. She gave him her table-book, on which she had 
just written three sentences, on seeing her husband's 
dead body ; one in Greek, another in Latin, a third in 
English. The purport of them was, that human justice 
was against his body, but that Divine Mercy would be 
favourable to his soul ; that if her fault deserved punish- 
ment, her youth, at least, and her imprudence, were 
worthy of excuse; and that God and posterity, she 
trusted, would show her favour. 

On the scaffold, she made a speech to the bystanders, 
in which the mildness of her disposition led her to take 
the blame entirely on herself, without uttering one com- 
plaint against the severity with which she had been 
treated. She said, that her offence was, not that she had 
laid her hand upon the crown, but that she had not re- 
jected it with sufficient constancy ; that she had erred 
less through ambition, than through reverence to her 
parents, whom she had been taught to respect and obey; 
that she Avillingly received death, as the only satisfaction 
which she could now make to the injured state; and 
though her infringement of the laws had been con- 
strained, she would show, by her voluntary submission 
to their sentence, that she was desirous to atone for that 
disobedience into which too much filial piety had be- 
trayed her ; that she had justly deserved this punish- 
ment, for being made the instrument, though the unwill- 
ing instrument, of the ambition of others ; and that the 
story of her life, she hoped, might at least be useful, by 
proving that innocence of intention excuses not actions 
that any way tend to the destruction of the common- 



368 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

wealth. After uttering these words, she caused her- 
self to be disrobed by her women, and with a steady, 
serene countenance, submitted herself to the execu- 
tioner. 



13. JANE, QUEEN OF NAVARRE. 

This excellent queen was the daughter of Henry II., 
king of Navarre, and of Margaret of Orleans, sister 
to Francis I., king of France. She was born in the 
year 1528. 

From her childhood, she was carefully educated in 
the Protestant religion, to which she steadfastly adhered 
all her days. Bishop Burnet says of her, — " That she 
both received the Reformation, and brought her subjects 
to it ; that she not only reformed her court, but the whole 
principality, to such a degree that the golden age seemed 
to have returned under her, or, rather, Christianity ap- 
peared again with its primitive purity and lustre." 

This illustrious queen, being invited to attend the 
nuptials of her son and the king of France's sister, fell 
a sacrifice to the cruel machinations of the French 
court against the Protestant religion. The religious 
fortitude and genuine piety with which she was endued 
did not, however, desert her in this great conflict and 
at the approach of death. 

To some that were about her, near the conclusion of 
her time, she said, " I receive all this as from the hand 
of God, my most merciful Father ; nor have I, during 
my extremity, feared to die, much less murmured 
against God for inflicting this chastisement upon me — 
knowing that whatsoever he does with me he so orders 
it, that, in the end, it shall turn to my everlasting 
good." 

When she saw her ladies and women weeping about 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 369 

her bed, she blamed them, saying, " Weep not for me, I 
pray you. God, by this sickness, calls me hence to 
enjoy a better life; and now I shall enter into the de- 
sired haven, toward which this frail vessel of mine has 
been a long time steering." 

She expressed some concern for her children, as they 
would be deprived of her in their tender years ; but 
added, "I doubt not that God himself will be their 
father and protector, as he has ever been mine in my 
greatest afflictions. I therefore commit them wholly 
to his government and fatherly care. I believe that 
Christ is my only Mediator and Saviour; and 1 look 
for salvation from no other. 0, my God, in thy good 
time deliver me from the troubles of this present life, 
that I may attain to the felicity which thou hast pro- 
mised to bestow upon me." 



14. COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON. 

" Why should we dwell on that which lies beneath, 
When living light hath touch'd the brow of death ?" — Hemans. 

During the whole of her illness her pains never made 
her impatient, but she seemed more concerned about 
those who attended her than about herself. She said, 
tenderly, to Lady Ann Erskine and Miss Scutt, whose 
long, faithful, and tender attachment to her is well known, 
" I fear I shall be the death of you both, (alluding to 
their constant watching with her ;) it will be but a few 
days more." She appeared, during the tedious nights 
and days of pain and sickness, engaged- in prayer, and 
animated with thankfulness for the unutterable peace 
which she had experienced, saying, " I am encircled in 
the arms of love and mercy ;" and, at another time, " I 
Ions; to be at home; 0, 1 long to be at home!" A 

16* 



370 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

little before she died she said, repeatedly, " I shall go 
to my Father this night ;" and shortly after, " Can he 
forget to be gracious ? Is there an end of his loving- 
kindness ?" Dr. Lettsom had visited her between four 
and five ; shortly after her strength failed ; and she 
appeared departing. Alarmed, they summoned up a 
friend, who was waiting anxiously below ; he took her 
hand, it was bedewed with sweat ; he applied his fingers 
to the pulse, it had ceased to beat; and that instant 
she breathed her last sigh, as he leaned over her, and 
fell asleep in Jesus. 

Dr. Lettsom' s letter to Lady Ann Erskine, the day 
following, speaks the worthy sentiments of his own 
heart, and the satisfaction so noble an example afforded 
him : — 

"I deeply sympathize with thee, and all the family 
in Christ, in the removal of that evangelic woman, so 
lately among us, the countess of Huntingdon. Your 
souls were so united, and your affections so endeared 
together, that I cannot but feel, in a particular manner, 
on thy account, lest the mournful state of thy mind may 
undermine thy constitution, and endanger a life spent 
in mitigating the painful sufferings of body of our de- 
ceased friend, while living. Her advanced age and de- 
bilitated frame had long prepared my mind for an event 
which has, at length, deprived the world of its brightest 
ornament. How often have we, when sitting by her 
sick-bed, witnessed the faithful composure with which 
she has viewed this awful change ! Not with the fearful 
prospect of doubt — not with the dreadful apprehension 
of the judgment of an offended Creator ; hers w T as all 
peace within ; -a tranquillity and cheerfulness which 
conscious acceptance alone could convey. How often 
have we seen her, elevated above the earth and earthly 
things, uttering this language, "My work is done; I 
have nothing to do but go to my heavenly Father !" 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 371 

Let us, therefore, under a firm conviction of her felicity, 
endeavour to follow her as she followed her Redeemer. 
Let us be thankful that she was preserved to advanced 
age with the perfect exercise of her mental faculties ; 
and that, under long and painful days and nights of 
sickness, she never repined, but appeared constantly 
animated in prayer and thankfulness for unutterable 
mercies she experienced. When I look back upon the 
past years of my attendance, and connect with it the 
multitudes of others to whom my profession has intro- 
duced me, I feel consolation in acknowledging that, of 
all the daughters of affliction, she exhibited the greatest 
degree of Christian composure that ever I witnessed, 
and that submission to Divine allotment, however se- 
vere and painful, which nothing but Divine aid could 
inspire. 

" It was on the 12th of this month that our dear friend 
appeared more particularly indisposed, and afforded me 
those apprehensions of danger which, on the 17th, finally 
terminated her bodily sufferings. 1 had, on former oc- 
casions of her illness, observed that when she expressed 
' a hope and desire to go to her heavenly Father,' for 
this was often her language, she usually added some 
solicitudes upon her mind respecting her children, as 
she spoke of her people in religious profession, adding, 
1 But I feel for the good of their souls.' When under 
the utmost debility of body, she has continued this sub- 
ject in animated and pious conversation, extending her 
views to all mankind; she has expressed a firm per- 
suasion in the gradual and universal extension of virtue 
and religion. Wherever a fellow- creature existed, so 
far her prayers extended. In her last illness I never 
heard her utter a desire to remain longer on earth. A 
little before she died she repeatedly said, in a feeble 
voice, just to be heard, ' I shall go to my Father this 
night ;' adding, ' Has God forgotten to be gracious ? or 



372 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

is there an end of his loving-kindness ?' It was on this 
day she conversed a little on the subject of sending mis- 
sionaries to Otaheite, in the South Seas, in the pious 
hope of introducing Christianity among that mild, but 
uninformed, race of people. Indeed, her whole life 
seemed devoted to one great object, — the glory of God 
and the salvation of his creatures." 

The countess died in the eighty-fourth year of her age. 



15. MRS. LEGARE. 

This excellent woman resided at Charleston, S. C. 
When she had nearly closed her eyes in death, her 
physician came and found the family in tears. 

" Well, doctor," said Mr. Legare, " what do you think 
of the scene in the next room?" 

" Indeed, sir," said he, " I know not what to think of 
it ; it is all a mystery to me. I have seen numbers of 
men in all the vigour of health, and thirsting for martial 
honour, rush into a field of battle, and in that confused 
scene put on the appearance of fortitude, not one of 
whom could face the gradual approaches of death or a 
sick-bed without visible horror; but here is a poor, 
emaciated woman, whose whole nervous system is un- 
strung by long disease, welcoming the grim messenger 
with the utmost serenity, composure, and joy, though 
approaching in all the horrors of the most gradual pro- 
gress imaginable, (for she was three days in the agonies 
of death.) Indeed, it is a mystery, and I know not how 
to account for it." 

"Do you not, sir?" asked Mr. Legare; "go, then, to 
Calvary. You see us dissolved in tears ; but I do not 
believe there is a tear in the room extorted by grief: 
no, sir, they are tears of joy." 






SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 373 

The doctor went down stairs, and met a gentleman at 
the door, who inquired after Mrs. Legare, to whom he 
replied, " Just gone, sir." 

"Well," said he, "Mr. Legare is a philosopher, and 
I hope he will bear the stroke like one." 

"Philosophy!" replied the doctor; "I have thought 
as much of philosophy as any man, but the scene within 
beats philosophy." 



16. LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 

" And 0, when I have safely pass'd 
Through every conflict but the last, 
Still, still unchanging, watch beside 
My bed of death, for Thou hast died."— Gkant. 

It appears to have been the great aim of this eminent 
and truly pious woman to promote the glory of God 
and the welfare of men, keeping her talents, extensive 
fortune, and other means of doing good, continually 
employed for the benefit of her fellow-creatures. Of all 
her cares, a most special one was that of the stranger, 
the fatherless, and the widow ; the needy, and him that 
had no helper; the lame, the halt, and the blind. These 
objects excited her most tender compassion. She par- 
ticipated in their sufferings ; she often conversed with 
them, and inquired into their history with great con- 
descension. She studied their particular cases, and put 
them in the way of improving their condition. She 
often visited them in sickness, bore the expenses of it, 
and endeavoured to cheer and encourage them under all 
the apparent hardships of their allotment. 

The following character of this noble-minded woman 
was drawn by the hand of an eminent writer : — 

"Her countenance was the lively picture of her mind, 
which was the seat of honour, truth, compassion, know- 



374 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

ledge, and innocence. In the midst of the most ample 
fortune, and the veneration of all that beheld and knew 
her, without the least affectation, she devoted herself to 
retirement, to the contemplation of her own being, and 
of that supreme Power which bestowed it. Without 
the learning of schools, or knowledge of a long course 
of arguments, she went on in an uninterrupted course 
of piety and virtue; and added to the severity and 
privacy of the last age, all the freedom and ease of this. 
The language and mien of a court she was possessed of 
in a high degree ; but the simplicity and humble thoughts 
of a cottage were her more welcome entertainments. 
She was a female philosopher, who did not only live up 
to the resignation of the most retired lives of the 
ancient sages, but also to the schemes and plans which 
they thought beautiful, though inimitable. This lady 
was the most exact economist, without appearing busy ; 
the most strictly virtuous, without tasting the praise of 
it; and shunned applause with as much industry as 
others do reproach." 

Toward the close of life she experienced great bodily 
affliction, having a cancer in the breast, for which she 
underwent an amputation. But in all her sufferings 
from this cause, and even under the trying operation, 
her religious fortitude and serenity of mind did not for- 
sake her. The resignation of her spirit to the dispen- 
sations of Divine Providence is strongly marked by the 
following expressions, which dropped from her during 
the course of this painful distemper: — "I would not 
wish to be out of my present situation for all the world, 
nor exchange it for any other at any price." 

A short time before her departure, impressed with a 
strong sense of Divine goodness, she broke out, with a 
raised accent, in the following manner : — " Lord, what 
is it that I see ? the greatness of the glory that is 
revealed in me ! that is before me !" 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 375 

So joyful appears to have been her entrance into the 
kingdom of her Lord and Saviour. She died in the 
year 1740. 



17. MARGARETTA KLOPSTOCK. 

" When life's close knot, by writ from Destiny, 
Disease shall cut, or age untie ; 
When, after some delays — some dying strife— 
The soul stands shiv'ring on the ridge of life ; 
With what a dreadful curiosity 
Doth she launch out into the sea of vast eternity V 1 

Joh^ Noeeis, IG90. 

The gay followers of the 'present world would deem it 
impossible for any to contemplate death and eternity 
with satisfaction, unless, perhaps, they might do so 
whom affliction had rendered weary of life. The fol- 
lowing narrative, however, presents a memorial of one, 
who, in the midst of youth and comfort, looked forward 
with delight to the scenes beyond the grave, and who, 
though blessed with tender friends below, still desired 
that unseen world, where dearer, better friends are 
enjoyed. 

This lady's maiden name was Moller. In 1751 she 
became acquainted with the celebrated German poet, 
Klopstock, and they were married in 1754. Both of 
them appear to have been partakers of real religion. 
Klopstock, in early life, had made the Bible his con- 
stant companion, not perusing its sacred pages merely 
as a duty, but as a pleasure. She is represented to 
have been a highly amiable and intelligent woman. 
The following extracts from her correspondence with 
Klopstock express the pious fervours of her heart : — 

" The holiest thoughts harmonize with my idea of 
you — of you who are more holy than I am — who love 
our great Creator not less than I do — more I think 



376 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

you cannot love Him ; not more, but in a more exalted 
manner. 

" Before I was beloved by you, I dreaded my great- 
est happiness ; I was uneasy lest it should withdraw me 
from God. How much was I mistaken ! It is true 
that adversity leads us to God; but such felicity as 
mine cannot withdraw me from him, or I could not be 
worthy to enjoy it; on the contrary, it brings me nearer 
to him. The sensibility, the gratitude, the joy, all the 
feelings attendant on happiness, make my devotion the 
more fervent." 

The union between her and her husband was one of 
the most affectionate possible ; alluding to her marriage 
in a letter to a friend, she said, " We married, and I am 
the happiest wife in the world. In some few months 
it will be four years that I am (have been) so happy ; 
and still I dote upon Klopstock as if he were my bride- 
groom." He said of her, " she was all the happiness 
of my life." 

Affection thus fervent, and earthly happiness thus 
exalted and pure, could not bind down her soul to this 
terrestrial scene. She still looked forward to eternity. 

Four short years of connubial happiness with her 
beloved Klopstock flew swiftly away, and she was not 
permitted to complete a fifth. In a letter to him, a 
little more than two months before her death, she said, 
" God will give us what in his wisdom he sees good; 
and if anything be wanting to our wishes, he will teach 
us to bear that want." 

In 1758 she had the prospect of becoming a mother. 
In September of that year, when, writing to her hus- 
band, who for several weeks was absent from her, she 
expressed some apprehensions of being removed from 
the present world, he replied : — " God is where you 
are. God is where I am. We depend entirely on him, 
much more entirely than is generally supposed. We 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 377 

depend on him in all those things which least call our 
thoughts towards him. His presence preserves our 
breath ; he has numbered the hairs of our head. My 
soul is now in a state of sweet composure, though mixed 
with some degree of sadness. 0, my wife, whom God 
has given me, be not careful — be not careful for the 
morrow." 

She replied : — " You must not think anything more 
than that I am as willing to die as to live ; and that 1 
prepare myself for both, for I £o not allow myself to 
look on either with certainty. Were I to judge from 
circumstances, there is much jpore probability of life 
than of death ; but I am perfectly resigned to either : 
God's will be done. I often wonder at the indifference 
I feel on the subject, when I am so happy in this world. 
what is our religion ! What must that eternal state 
be of which we know so little, while our soul feels so 
much ! More than a life with Klopstock ! It does not 
now appear to me so hard to leave you and our child ; 
and I only fear that I may lose this peace of mind 
again, though it has already lasted eight months. 1 
well know that all hours are not alike, and particularly 
the last ; since death, in my situation, must be far from 
an easy death ; but let the last hour make no impres- 
sion oh you. You know too well how much the body 
then presses down the soul. Let God give what he 
will, I shall still be happy. A longer life with you, or 
an eternal life with him ! But can you as easily part 
from me as I from you? You are to remain in this 
world — in a world without me. You know I have al- 
ways wished to be the survivor, because I well know it 
is the hardest to endure ; but perhaps it is the will of 
God that you should be left, and perhaps you have most 
strength. 

"0 think where I am going; and, as far as sinners 
can judge of each other, you may be certain that I go 



378 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

there, (the humble hopes of a Christian cannot deceive,) 
and there you will follow me. There shall we be for- 
ever, united by love, which assuredly was not made to 
cease. So also shall we love our child. At first, per- 
haps, the sight of the child may add to your distress ; 
but it must afterward be a great comfort to you to have 
a child of mine. I would wish it to survive me, though 
I know most people would be of a different opinion. 
Why should I think otherwise ? Do I not intrust it to 
you and to God? It is with the sweetest composure 
that I speak of this ; yet I will say no more, for perhaps 
it may affect you too much, though you have given me 
leave to speak of it. How I thank you for that kind 
permission ! My heart earnestly wished it, but on your 
account I would not indulge the wish. I have done — 
I can write of nothing else. I am, perhaps, too serious, 
but it is a seriousness mixed with tears of joy." 

JSfot long after she wrote this letter, her beloved hus- 
band returned home ; but he did not long enjoy her 
society. The solemn event she had anticipated took 
place, and she entered eternity, November 28, 1758. 

In giving some account of her departure her sister 
said : " She died as she had lived, with firm courage. 
She took leave of her husband, I prayed with her, and 
she departed in the gentlest manner. Her best, her 
dearest only friend, her guardian angel on earth (as her 
heart overflowing with the tenderest love, called him 
even in her last moments) was all she wished for here. 
He felt it, and made her happy, and the remembrance 
of her will be his greatest earthly happiness as long as 
he remains behind. In the midst of those blissful days, 
she passed into the infinitely superior glory of her Fa- 
ther and Redeemer; and her departure is mourned by 
many excellent friends who loved her, and who now sup- 
port themselves with the hope of seeing her again. In 
the hour of dissolution only she seemed to feel the lot of 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 879 

mortality ; but, praised be the God of mercy, after the 
sun had a few times run his daily course, the scene of 
her trials closed, and then those short sufferings must 
have rendered her entrance into the land of bliss the 
more enchanting. 

" ' For when the short repose of death is past, 
Then transport follows ; — bliss — eternal bliss/ 

In like manner the short separation from her friend, 
will make his reunion with her so much the more de- 
lightful." 

A week after her death, Klopstock, in a letter to a 
friend, gave the following narrative of the affecting scene 
through which he had passed. 

" This is my Meta's dying day, and yet I am com- 
posed. Can I ascribe this to myself, my Cramer? 
Certainly not. Thanks be to the God of comfort for all 
the favours he has shown me. Thank our God with me, 
my Cramer. I will now try to give you a more circum- 
stantial account. Her sufferings continued from Friday 
till Tuesday afternoon about four o'clock, but they were 
the most violent from Monday evening about eight. On 
Sunday morning I supported first myself and then her, 
by repeating, that without our Father's will not a hair 
on her head could fall ; and more than once I repeated 
to her the following lines from my last ode. One time 
I was so much affected as to be forced to stop at every 
line. I was to have repeated it all to her, but we were 
interrupted. 

* Though unseen by human eye, 
My Redeemer's hand is nigh ; 
He has pour'd salvation's light 
Far within the vale of night ; 
There will God my steps control, 
There his presence bless my soul. 
Lord, whatever my sorrows be, 
Teach me to look up to Thee I 1 



380 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

" When I began to fear for her life, (as I did this 
sooner than any one else,) I from time to time whis- 
pered something in her ear concerning God, but so as 
not to let her perceive my apprehensions. I know little 
of what I said, only in general I know that I repeated to 
her how much I was strengthened by the uncommon 
fortitude graciously vouchsafed to her ; and that I now 
reminded her of that to which we had so often encour- 
aged each other — perfect resignation. When she had 
already suffered greatly, I said to her with much emo- 
tion : ' The Most Merciful is with thee.' I saw how she 
felt it. Perhaps she now first guessed that I thought 
she would die. I saw this in her countenance. 1 after- 
ward told her (as often as I could go into the room and 
support the sight of her sufferings) how visibly the grace 
of God was with her. How could I refrain from speak- 
ing of the great comfort of my soul ? 

" I came in just as she had been bled. A light having 
been brought near on that account, I saw her face clearly 
for the first time after many hours. Ah, the hue of 
death was on it ! But that God who was so mightily 
with her supported me too at the sight. She was better 
after the bleeding, but soon worse again. I was allowed 
but very little time to take leave of her. I had some 
hopes that I might return to pray with her. I shall 
never cease to thank God for the grace he gave me at 
this parting. I said, ' I will fulfil my promise, my Meta, 
and tell you that your life, from extreme weakness, is in 
danger.' 

" You must not expect me to relate everything to you. 
1 cannot recollect the whole. She heard perfectly, and 
spoke without the smallest difficulty. I pronounced over 
her the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
Ghost. ' Now the will of him who inexpressibly sup- 
ports thee, his will be done !' 

" ' Let Him do according to his will/ said she; * He 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 381 

will do well.' She said this in a most expressive tone 
of joy and confidence. 

" ' You have endured like an angel. God has been 
with you. He will be with you. His mighty name be 
praised. The Most Merciful will support you ! Were 
I so wretched as not to be a Christian, I should now be- 
come one.' Something of this sort, and yet more, I said 
to her in a strong emotion of transport. Eliza (Mrs. 
K.'s sister) says, we were both full of joy. 

' ; c Be my guardian angel,, if our God permit.' 

" ' You have been mine/ said she. 

" ' Be my guardian angel/ repeated I, ' if our God 
permit.' 

' ; ; ATho would not be so ¥ said she. 

"I would have hastened away. Eliza said, " Give her 
your hand once more.' 

" I know not whether I said anything. I hastened 
away — then went into my own room and prayed. God 
gave me much strength in prayer: I asked for perfect 
resignation ; but how was it that I did not pray for her, 
which would have been so natural ? Probably because 
she was already heard above all that I could ask or 
think ! 

u When I was gone out, she again asked Eliza whether 
it was likely she might die, and whether her death was 
so near? Once she told her that she felt nothing. 
Afterwards she felt some pain. She said to Eliza that 
God had much to forgive in her, but she trusted in her 
Redeemer. 

' ; On another occasion Eliza said to her, that God would 
help her. She answered, ; Into heaven.' As her head 
sunk on the pillow, she said with much animation, ' It is 
over !' She then looked tenderly on Eliza, and with yet 
unfixed eyes, listened while she thus prayed : ; The 
blood of Jesus Christ cleanse thee from all sin.' 
sweet words of eternal life ! After some expressions of 



382 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

pain in her countenance, it again became perfectly se- 
rene, — and thus she died. 

" I will not complain, I will be thankful that in so 
severe a trial God has strengthened me. 

" At parting she said to me very sweetly : ' Thou wilt 
follow me !' May my end be like thine ! might I 
now for one moment weep on her bosom ! For I can- 
not refrain from tears, nor does God require it of me." 

To another friend Klopstock wrote: "I went to Al- 
tona the evening after my Meta's death, after having 
seen my dead son, but not my wife ; I dreaded too much 
the return of that image." 

On Monday following her death she was buried with 
her son in her arms. 

" After some time I wished to see what I had just be- 
fore called my Meta. They prevented me — I said to 
one of our friends : ' Then I will forbear. She will rise 
again.' 

" The second night came the blessing of her death. 
Till then I had considered it only a trial. The blessing 
of such a death in its full power came on me. I passed 
above an hour in silent rapture. Only once in my life 
did I ever feel anything similar, when in my youth 1 
thought myself dying ; but the moments of my expected 
departure then were somewhat different. My soul was 
raised with gratitude and joy, but that sweet silence was 
not in it. The highest degree of peace with which I am 
acquainted was in my soul. This state began with my 
recollecting that thy Accomplisher and my Advocate 
said, ' He who loveth father or mother more than me is 
not worthy of me.' 

"It is impossible to describe all the blessings of this 
hour. I was never before with such certainty convinced 
of my salvation. 

"For this world, forever, my Meta. Yes, it is short, 
very short, the forever of this world. How soon wast 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 383 

thou taken from me ! But never, never will I complain. 
Not even that the forever of this world often appears to 
me far from short. How can I complain ! How can I 
forget the comfort, the gracious refreshment which re- 
stored my soul when my path was the roughest, when 
the wilderness of my pilgrimage most resembled that 
shadowy vale which thou didst pass ! 

" Thou who couldst not endure a single day's absence 
from me, (0 well I know how ill thou couldst endure it,) 
thou didst contentedly see me leave thee, and didst not 
send for me to return, though I had promised to pray 
with thee again. What a change in thee ! Thou wast 
quite detached from this world. It was the beginning 
of eternal life. Though I know that thou hast never 
ceased to love me, yet this thought would be painful to 
me had it not been for the sake of the great object of 
our worship, that thou didst tear thyself ever from me." 

Klopstock survived his amiable wife many years, and 
to the end of life cherished the remembrance of her. 
He died in Christian triumph. In his last and severest 
conflict, he raised himself on his bed, folded his hands, 
and with uplifted eyes pronounced the cheering words : 
" Can a woman forget her child, that she should not have 
compassion on the fruit of her womb ? Yes, she may 
forget, but I will not forget thee." He sunk down, fell 
into a gentle slumber, and awoke in eternity, March 
14, 1803. 



384 



DEATH-BED SCENES. 



[PART I. 



18. MRS. FLETCHER. 

" 'Tis sweet to die ! The flowers of earthly love 

(Fair, frail spring-blossoms) early droop and die ; 
But all their fragrance is exhaled above, 
Upon our spirits evermore to lie. — Fanny Forrester. 

Miss Bosanquet was born in 1739. At the early age 
of ten she became the subject of renewing grace. As 
she advanced in years she also increased in the maturity 
and excellence of her Christian character. She sought 
intercourse and communion with the most eminently 
pious persons in her vicinity. The change induced by 
this in her manners, dress, and whole course of life, was 
not pleasing to her parents, whose views of the require- 
ments of religion were far less self-denying, and more 
indulgent of worldly appetites. Although subjected to 
no painful restraints or persecutions, her residence be- 
came so unpleasant to herself and her parents, that at 
the age of twenty- one, having a small fortune coming to 
herself, she hired rooms at a friend's and removed 
thither ; from this time devoting herself and substance 
entirely to the service of her Redeemer. 

About a year after this, a house belonging to her estate 
becoming vacant in her native town — Laytonstone — she 
moved thither, and, in the midst of her other duties and 
charities, collected under her hospitable roof several 
orphan children, with whose education and well-being 
she charged herself. Her income was found to be too 
narrow a limit for her benevolence, but the providence 
of God never failed her in any of the adventures of faith 
she undertook. By encouraging and generous friends 
assisting, from time to time, she was enabled to continue 
her labours of love towards the homeless and orphaned 
children that gathered around her hospitable door. 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 385 

During, however, the fourteen years she struggled with 
the cares and perplexities of managing so large a family, 
(sometimes amounting to thirty,) her own property was 
almost entirely expended, and her health often periled; 
but her faith and patience never failed her, and the Lord 
failed not to redeem his promise to his praying children 
in her behalf. 

In 1781, she became the wife of Fletcher, Vicar of 
Madeley — a name associated with what ever in religion is 
sublime, or elevated, or intense, or holy. Theirs were 
congenial spirits. No married couple, perhaps, ever 
loved each other more tenderly, none have ever been 
more single in their purposes, more devoted to acts of 
piety, more wrapt in a Saviour's love. 

After the decease of her husband she continued to 
labour with unwearied assiduity for the benefit of the 
people who had been blessed by his labours during his 
life. She survived her lamented husband more than 
thirty years. 

August 14th, 1815, she writes: " Thirty years, this 
day, 1 drank the bitter cup, and closed the eyes of my 
beloved husband • and now I am myself in a dying state. 
Lord, prepare me ! I feel death very near. My soul 
cloth wait, and long to fly to the bosom of my God ! 
Come, my adorable Saviour ! I lie at thy feet; 1 long 
for all thy fulness !" 

The last entry in her journal was made on the 26th of 
October following : " 1 have had a bad night ; but asking 
help of the Lord for a closer communion, my precious 
Lord applied that word, ' I have borne thy sins in my 
own body on the tree.' I felt his presence. I seem 
very near death ; but 1 long to fly into the arms of 
my beloved Lord. I feel his loving-kindness sur- 
rounds me." 

As the closing scene of life drew on, her sufferings 
were very great ; her breathing was exceedingly difficult ; 

17 



386 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and a sore in her left breast, supposed to be a cancer, 
gave her great distress. She, however, continued to 
speak to the people, saying, " I will speak to them while 
I have any breath." 

At one time, waking out of a doze, she said, "I am 
drawing near to glory ;" and soon after, " There is my 
house and portion fair;" and again, " Jesus, come, my 
hope of glory ;" and, after a short pause, " He lifts his 
hands and shows that I am graven there." 

The night of her decease, the young woman who at- 
tended upon her, with great difficulty, on account of her 
weakness, could compose her in bed. After she had lain 
down, she said : " My love, this is the last time I shall 
get into bed ; it has been hard work to get in, but it is 
work I shall do no more. This oppression upon my 
breath cannot last long, but all is well. The Lord will 
shower down ten thousand blessings upon thee, my 
tender nurse, my kind friend." 

About one o'clock in the morning, her spirit entered 
into rest. The precise moment of her departure was 
marked only by the cessation of noise made by her 
breathing. The last words she uttered were addressed 
to her nurse, " The Lord bless both thee and me." 
There was at the last, neither sigh, groan, nor struggle. 
A heavenly sweetness still overspread her countenance, 
and prompted the expression from the beholder — " asleep 
in Jesus !" The moment so much longed for had ar- 
rived ; and the expression left by the departed spirit upon 
the lifeless form, seemed to say 

" My home, henceforth, is in the skies ; 
Earth, sea, and sun, adieu ; 
All heaven's unfolded to my eyes, 
I have no sight for you." 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 387 



19. MRS. WOULD. 

The mother of the late Rev. Basil Would, of Bristol, 
England, lost her husband seven months before the birth 
of her child. Her afflictions were much sanctified to 
her, and she delighted to bring up her child in the nur- 
ture and admonition of the Lord. In her last illness, 
when unable to write, she dictated to the venerable 
clergyman, her pastor, her dying farewell, in which she 



" I am dying, and not afraid; I trust 1 am going to 
my Father's house! I never was so happy ! I would 
write to tell you what my soul feels in this blessed pros- 
pect, that I might bear my testimony to his grace, that 
I might refresh your soul who have so often refreshed 
mine, and tell you what joy 1 feel in this prospect. I 
do not doubt of meeting you in heaven, and my dear 
child too !" 

The same evening she dictated the above letter, she 
said to her son, " 0, I am very happy; 1 am going to 
my mansion in the skies ; I shall soon be there, and, 0, 
I shall be glad to receive you to it ! You shall come in, 
to go out no more ! If ever you have a family, tell your 
children they had a grandmother who feared God, and 
found the comfort of it on her death-bed ; and tell your 
partner I shall be happy to see her in heaven. Son, I 
exhort you to preach the Gospel, preach it faithfully and 
boldly ; fear not the face of man ; endeavour to put in a 
word of comfort to the humble believer, to poor weak 
souls. I heartily wish you success ; may you be useful 
to the souls of many !" Towards the conclusion of that 
evening she addressed her son in words which he de- 
lighted to repeat ; when, after speaking of the boundless 
love of Christ and his salvation, she added, "It is a 



388 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

glorious salvation — a free, unmerited salvation — a full, 
complete salvation — a perfect, eternal salvation ; it is a 
deliverance from every enemy ; it is a supply of every 
want ; it is all I can now wish for in death, it is all I shall 
want in eternity." 

Thus did this excellent mother breathe out her soul 
for a few days more, till she was peacefully translated 
from her couch of sickness to her eternal rest. Her be- 
loved son's name was the last on her lips ; and truly was 
her hope respecting him fulfilled — that hope which she 
expressed by repeating to him the words of a friend, 
who, adopting the consolation offered to Monica respect- 
ing Augustine, had said, " Go home and be at peace ; 
the child of those tears can never perish." 



20. CATHARINE BRETTERGL 

1 ' Though to-night the seed be sown in gloom, 

Amid darkness, and tears, and sorrow, 
It shall spring from the tomb, in immortal bloom, 

On the bright and glorious morrow. 
The tears that we shed o'er holy dust, 

Are the tribute of human sadness ; 
But the grave holds in trust the remains of the just, 

Till the day of eternal gladness." 

This excellent woman, in the beginning of her last sick- 
ness, was permitted to labour under great exercise and 
conflict of spirit, but she was mercifully supported under 
this trial, and the victory was, in due time, graciously 
given to her. 

When she was near her end, her strength and voice 
being very feeble, she lifted up her eyes, and with a 
sweet countenance, and still voice, said : " My warfare 
is accomplished, and my iniquities are pardoned. Lord, 
whom have I in heaven but thee ? and I have none on 
earth besides thee. My flesh faileth, and my heart also ; 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 389 

but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for- 
ever. He that preserveth Jacob, and defendeth Israel, 
is my God, and will guide me unto death. Direct me, 
Lord my God, and keep my soul in safety." 

Soon after she had expressed these words, she yielded 
up her soul in peace to her Creator. 



21. MRS. ELIZABETH JAMES. 

"Life is a dream — a bright, but fleeting dream — 
I can but love ; but then my soul awakes, 
And from the mist of earthliness, a gleam 
Of heavenly light, of truth immortal, breaks." 

Fanny Forrester. 

Having been delivered about four or five days, and as 
well as could be expected, she then appeared to be 
somewhat worse, and the symptoms grew more dange- 
rous till her death, which happened a few days after; 
during which last period of her life these sweet expres- 
sions dropped from her lips: — "I shall be ill; but I 
know all is well. God is love — I am persuaded of that ; 
whatever he does will be best." The next day, when 
she seemed to be sensible of her danger, she disclaimed 
all merit in herself, and said, " If God was to enter into 
judgment with me according to my deserts, I know I 
should be miserable forever; my only hope is in the 
merits of Christ : the covenant is sure. As to my chil- 
dren, I shall be no great loss to them — God will be 
more to them than I could be ;" and frequently said that 
evening, "All is well— all is done." That night she 
dreamed that there was a beautiful chariot come for 
her with cherubim: "And they told me," said she, 
" they were come for me, to carry me to my dear Re- 
deemer." The day following, she sung, in great ecstasy, 
" Glory, glory, glory, praise ; all is well ; all is done ! 



390 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

Sweet Jesus, blessed Saviour !" and frequently expressed 
her confidence that she should meet her babes in glory, 
that were dead, and some other select friends (men- 
tioning their names) who had died in the Lord. At 
another time she cried, " Eternity ! eternity ! that is 
the happy portion of the children of God." 

"And you are a child of God," said her sister. 

She turned her head, and smiled, saying, "Yes, my 
dear, I know lam;" and added a word of praise to her 
Redeemer. 

Some time afterward she called upon one near her, 
" Come, will you not go up ? I am going up to that 
number." And often repeated to herself, in a loud 
voice, " Hosts — angels — camp of Israel," <fcc. At one 
time she said to her husband, " My happiness is inex- 
pressible. I shall drink the new wine in the kingdom ; 
I shall sit at the Master's table among his children; 
and I am one, known and owned long ago — he is my 
husband." To her sister she said, "I have nothing to 
distress me — this is death; 1 shall die, and you will 
behold me no more ; the gate is strait, but the way is 
short. How astonishing ! God dwelleth in me ;" and 
repeated it with peculiar emphasis, " God is dwelling in 
me. I am saved forever, ever, ever. May we all be 
washed in the blood of Christ !" 

Often she spoke with delight of the promises, — that 
they were many. " Wonderful love ! Jesus," said she 
to one near her, " shed his blood, and groaned, and died, 
for such sinful worms as you and I." When a fit 
was coming, she said, "Now may I retreat, and live 
forever!" At another time, "Open, Lord; I can stay 
no longer." To one of her friends she said, " How 
beautiful will you be when you come thither ! you will 
not know yourself — your clothes will be changed." 
Frequently she said, " Jesus gave me his salvation." 
One evening she sung some verses in the most melo- 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 391 

dious strain, that were suggested to her mind, beginning 
with these words : — 

" Come, sweet Jesus, come away, 
Take me to the realms of light !" 

And concluded her newly-composed hymn thus : — 

" One and all we fly to thee ; 

Come, sweet Jesus, come away I" 

And immediately said to one near her bed-side, " Come, 
you will be with me very soon." And though she was 
at times light-headed before her death, her discourse 
was of the things of God, and very evangelical; and 
the night she died, was often heard to say, in a very 
loud voice, " My dear Redeemer ! my dear Redeemer !" 
Soon after she fell asleep. 



22. AGNES MORRIS, A POOR NEGRO WOMAN. 

Agnes Morris, a poor negro woman, sent a pressing 
request to Mrs. Thwaites, a lady resident in Antigua, 
to visit her. She was in the last stage of a dropsy. This 
poor creature ranked among the lowest class of slaves. 
Her all consisted of a little wattled hut and a few clothes. 
Mrs. Thwaites finding her, at the commencement of her 
illness, in a very destitute condition, mentioned her case 
to a friend, who gave her a coat. When Mrs. Thwaites 
paid her last visit, on her entering the door, Agnes ex- 
claimed, "Missis, you come! This tongue can't tell 
what Jesus do for me. Me call my Saviour, day and 
night, and he come." Laying her hand on her breast, 
"He comfort me here." On Mrs. Thwaites asking if 
she was sure of going to heaven when she died, she 
answered, " Yes, me sure. Me see de way clear, and 
shine before me," — -looking, and pointing upwards with 



392 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

a smiling face. "If da dis minute Jesus will take me 
home, me ready." Some hymns being sung, she was 
in a rapture of joy ; and, in reference to the words of 
one of them, exclaimed, " For me — for me — poor sin- 
ner !" lifting her swelled hands. " What a glory ! what 
a glory !" Seeing her only daughter weeping, she said, 
" What you cry for ? No cry — follow Jesus — He will 
take care of you;" and turning to Mrs. Thwaites, she 
said, " Missis, show urn de pa," — meaning the pa/th to 
heaven. Many other expressions fell from her of a 
similar nature, to the astonishment of those who heard 
her. She continued, it was understood, praying and 
praising God to her latest breath. This poor creature 
was destitute of all earthly comforts. Her bed was a 
board, with a few plantain-leaves over it. How many 
of these outcasts will be translated from outward wretch- 
edness to realms of glory ! 



23. A NEGRO SLAVE IN ANTIGUA. 

The following account of the dying hours of a con- 
verted native of Africa w T as given by a lady who wit- 
nessed her sufferings and comforts. This aged Chris- 
tian was a negro slave in Antigua : — 

" We often visited her; and always found her cheer- 
ful and happy, and her mouth filled with blessings. 
She enumerated, with all the exaggerations of gratitude, 
the advantages which she had derived from our coming ; 
blessing and praising God incessantly for it, and in- 
voking, in the most affecting manner, blessings on the 
very ship which had brought us out. She could not, 
she said, forget her God, for he did not forget her; she 
lay down upon that bed, and he came down to her — 
meaning by this to describe the spiritual communion 
which she enjoyed with her God and Saviour. She 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 393 

told us, if it was the will of ' Jesus Massa ' to call her 
to-morrow, she should be satisfied to go ; if it was his 
will to spare her some time longer, she should be satis- 
fied to stay. 

" We frequently called to see her, and always found 
her in the same strain of adoring gratitude and love. 

" She often regretted her inability to come to pray- 
ers. Indeed, such was her desire to join us in wor- 
shipping God, that she once got her son to bring her 
on his back. 

"When I asked her, on another occasion, how she 
did, she replied she did not know ; but He who made 
the soul and body, knew, and the best time for calling 
her away. She only hoped it would not be pitch dark- 
ness, but that there might be light ; and that He would 
remember his promise to her. She thanked me when 
I offered her some medicine ; said she would have any- 
thing which we gave her, and that ' Jesus Massa would 
pay us for all.' 

" 'What,' she asked, on another visit, ' can poor massa 
do more ? what can poor missis do more ? They cannot 
take away old age.' She repeated that she was waiting 
for her summons from above ; said God spared her a 
little, and she thanked him for it. By-and-by, when he 
saw his time, he would come, and then she would thank 
him for that. 

" She once appeared to have some doubts in her 
mind ; for, when she spoke of her approaching depar- 
ture, she said she should be glad to go if she was to be 
happy, and if the way was not dark. On being asked 
if she did not love 'Jesus Massa,' she exclaimed, in 
great surprise at the question, 'Ah! Ah!' and then 
told us how, years ago, she had been in the habit of 
visiting different plantations to hear the word of eternal 
life ; and that when she came in, fatigued with labour 
in the field, she did not go to seek for food to nourish 
' 17* 



394 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

her body, but went in pursuit of that ' bread which en- 
dureth unto everlasting life.' This evening she said, 
' Jesus Massa come closer and closer to me.' 

" The next evening she appeared so faint and low as 
to be scarcely conscious of our coming in. After a 
while, however, she exerted herself to speak, and told 
us she was in pain from head to foot ; nobody had 
beat her ; nobody had whipped her ; but ' Jesus Massa ' 
had sent the pain, and she thanked him for it. Some 
day, when he saw good, he would come and take it 
away. 

" After lingering thus for some time, still in pain, but 
prayer and praise ever flowing from her lips, she drew 
near her end. When in her greatest extremities, she 
said her Saviour would give her ease when he saw fit ; 
and if he did not give it her now, he would give it her 
yonder — pointing upwards. 

" Thus this aged Christian fell asleep in Jesus. 

" Her external condition was by no means enviable. 
Little, however, as it presented to charm the eye of 
sense, a mind of spiritual discernment perceived in her 
humble cottage a heavenly Guest, whose presence shed 
a Divine splendour around, with which all the pomp of 
human greatness would vainly attempt to vie." 



24. ANNA MARIA SCHURMAN. 

"Death's subtle seed within, 
(Sly, treach'rous miner !) working in the dark, 
Smiled at thy well-concerted scheme, and beckon'd 
The worm to riot on that rose so red, 
Unfaded ere it fell, one moment's prey." — Young. 

Anna Maria Schurman, of a noble Protestant family 
in Germany, was born at Cologne, in the year 1607. 
The powers of her mind were very great, and she em- 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 395 

ployed them in the acquisition of a large stock of lite- 
rature. She was skilled in many languages ; and the 
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, were so familiar to her that 
she not only wrote, but spoke them fluently, to the sur- 
prise of the most learned men. She had also a compe- 
tent knowledge of the liberal arts and sciences ; and 
was held in high reputation by several persons of the 
greatest learning in her time. 

During her last illness she declared her full satisfac- 
tion in the religious choice she had made. After suf- 
fering much from the disorder, she expressed herself in 
the following manner : — 

" I have proceeded one step further towards eternity, 
and if the Lord shall please to increase my pains, it 
will be no cause of sorrow : the will of my God is all to 
me ; I follow him. How good is it to be in the hands 
of God ! But it will be still better for me when I shall 
enjoy more full communion with him among the chil- 
dren of God, in the abodes of the blessed. I have no- 
thing more to desire in this world." 

In the last night of her life she said to one who 
watched with her, " I am almost continually impressed 
with a sentiment of this nature, * A Christian must 
suffer.' This sentiment comforts me in my pains, and 
supports me that I faint not. how good it is to 
remain in silence and patience before God ! My most 
beneficent Father has not dealt with me as with his 
servant Job, whose friends were with him seven days 
in silence, and then addressed him with bitter words. 
But how sweet and comfortable are the impressions 
which I feel !" 



396 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



25. A YOUNG WOMAN. 

The following interesting example of the power of 
religion on the mind of a person in humble life is ex- 
tracted from a letter to a nobleman, by the late vene- 
rable Mr. Newton: — 

" Permit me, my lord, to relate, upon this occasion, 
some things which exceedingly struck me in a conver- 
sation I had with a young woman whom I visited in her 
last illness about two years ago. She was a sober, pru- 
dent person, of plain sense ; she could read the Bible, 
but had read little besides. Her knowledge of the 
world was nearly confined to the parish ; for I suppose 
she was seldom, if ever, twelve miles from home. She 
had known the Gospel about seven years before the 
Lord visited her with a lingering consumption, which, 
at length, removed her to a better world. A few days 
previous to her death, in prayer by her bed-side, I 
thanked the Lord that he gave her now to see that she 
had not followed cunningly devised fables. When I 
had finished, she repeated that expression : c No/ said 
she, 'not cunningly devised fables; these are realities 
indeed ; I feel their truth ; I feel their comfort. tell 
my friends, tell my acquaintance, tell inquiring souls, 
tell poor sinners, tell all the daughters of Jerusalem,' 
(alluding to Solomon's Song,) 'what Jesus has done 
for my soul ! Tell them, that now, in the time of need, 
I find Him my beloved, and my friend ; and, as such, I 
commend him to them.' 

" She then fixed her eyes steadfastly upon me, and 
proceeded, to the best of my recollection, as follows : — 
1 Sir, you are highly favoured in being called to preach 
the Gospel. I have often heard you with pleasure ; but 
give me leave to tell you that I now see all you have 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN, 397 

said, or that you can say, is comparatively but little. 
Nor till you come into my situation, and have death and 
eternity full in your view, will it be possible for you to 
conceive the vast weight and importance of the truths 
you declare. 0, sir, it is a serious thing to die; no 
words can express what is needful to support the soul 
in the solemnity of a dying hour.' 

" When I visited her again, she said, ' I feel that my 
hope is fixed upon the Rock of Ages ; I know in whom 
I have believed. But the approach of death presents a 
prospect which is, till then, hidden from us, and which 
cannot be described.' She said much more to the same 
purpose ; and in all she spoke there was dignity, weight, 
and evidence. We may well say, with Elihu, ' Who 
teacheth like the Lord?'" 



26. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 

"Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears, 
Where light and shade alternate dwell ; 
How bright the unchanging morn appears ! 
Farewell, inconstant world, farewell !" 

When the lethargy of death was creeping over this 
eminently pious woman, observing Mr. Bethune, her 
son-in-law, looking at her with agitation, she was 
roused from her heaviness, and, stretching her arms 
towards him, and embracing him, she said, " My dear, 
dear son, I am going to leave you ; I am going to my 
Saviour." 

" I know," he replied, . " that when you do go from us, 
it will be to the Saviour ; but, my dear mother, it may 
not be the Lord's time now to call you to himself." 

"Yes," said she, "now is the time; and, 0, I could 
weep for sin." 

Her words were accompanied with her tears. 



398 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

"Have you any doubts, then, my dear friend?" asked 
Mrs. Chrystie. 

" 0, no," replied Mrs. Graham ; and looking at Mr. 

and Mrs. B as they wept. " My dear children, I 

have no more doubt of going to my Saviour than if I 
were already in his arms ; my guilt is all transferred ; 
he has cancelled all I owed. Yet I could weep for sins 
against so good a God : it seems to me as if there must 
be weeping even in heaven for sin." 

She was now surrounded by many of her dear Chris- 
tian friends, who watched her dying bed with affection 
and solicitude. On Tuesday afternoon she slept with 
little intermission. This, said Dr. Mason, may be truly 
called " falling asleep in Jesus." It was remarked by 
those who attended her, that all terror was taken away, 
and that death seemed here as an entrance into life. 
Her countenance was placid, and looked younger than 
before her illness. 

At a quarter past twelve o'clock, being the morning 
of the 27th of July, 1814, her spirit gently winged its 
flight from a mansion of clay to the realms of glory, 
while around the precious remnant of earth her family 
and friends stood weeping, yet elevated by the scene 
they were witnessing. After a silence of many minutes 
they kneeled by her bed, adored the goodness and the 
grace of God toward his departed child, and implored 
the Divine blessing on both the branches of her family, 
as well as on all the Israel of God. 

Thus she departed in peace, not trusting in her wis- 
dom or virtue, like the philosophers of Greece and Rome; 
not even like Addison, calling on the profligate to see a 
good man die ; but like Howard, afraid that her good 
works might have a wrong place in the estimate of her 
hope, — her chief glory was that of " a sinner saved by 
grace." 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 399 



27. MRS. MARY FRANCIS. 

11 My God, my Father, and my Friend, 
Do not forsake me in my end." — Roscommon. 

In the commencement of her illness, this godly woman 
was exercised with great darkness and distress of mind, 
and was very earnest, in her inquiries and prayers, for 
the assurance of salvation. The enemy taking advan- 
tage of the weakness of her body, and some trying cir- 
cumstances in her connexions, brought her into great 
heaviness. The corruptions of her nature, more fully 
appeared in their awful extent and malignity ; the foun- 
tains of this great deep burst forth with such impetuosity, 
as made her fear she should be ingulfed in the vortex 
of destruction. In this frame of mind she would often 
exclaim, " that I knew I were a child of God ! 
that 1 knew I were a believer in Jesus !" 

Being answered by a pious lady, whose visits were 
greatly blessed to her soul, " So you are ;" she replied, 
" Satan tells me I am not, that all my religion is a de- 
lusion — that I am nothing but a hypocrite, and that he 
shall have me, after all my profession." Conflicts of 
this distressing nature oppressed and agitated, fre- 
quently her body as well as her soul, in the most alarm- 
ing manner. At other times the Lord applied the 
promises with such power and aptitude to her case, as 
remarkably dispelled her fears, and caused her to rejoice 
with joy unspeakable and full of glory. To a friend, 
who was in the habit of visiting her, she exclaimed, " I 
know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded he is 
able to keep that which I have committed to him against 
that day. God is worthy to be trusted ; he is as good as 
his word, I find him faithful, I feel him near me. God 
is love — how sweet are these words — God is love I" 



400 . DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

Being visited by her minister, he found her under 
great depression of mind, lamenting the loss of her com- 
fortable views, and complaining of the hardness of her 
heart. She said she was greatly perplexed by the 
enemy, who suggested that she was a hypocrite, that all 
her religion was vain, and that she should go to hell. 
She fervently joined in prayer, was greatly relieved in 
it, expressed much thankfulness for the visit, and en- 
treated her pastor to make his visits more frequent, for 
they were a great blessing to her soul. This happy 
frame was succeeded by confusion and darkness of mind, 
but she was enabled to rely on Christ, and trust in his 
promises : "I will never leave you — I will be with you 
to the end." 

This happy frame was of short duration ; in a few 
days she Avas overwhelmed with sorrow, but was de- 
livered by the application of that promise, "I will keep 
him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed upon me, be- 
cause he trusteth in me." She said she hoped her mind 
w T as stayed upon the Lord. " !" said she, "I long for 
the consolations of Christ, I want more of his Holy Spirit ;" 
and added, "I have had great consolations since you 
visited me last." The day following she was very low 
in mind, but said she knew that God had made an ever- 
lasting covenant w T ith her, ordered in all things and sure." 

The next day I called on her, she was very weak, and 
spoke with much difficulty ; but recovering a little, she 
broke out in expressions of exalted gratitude to Christ, 
" 0, he has broken in upon my soul with such light ! 
he has given me such joys, that all my doubts are re- 
moved ; he says he will be with me, and stand by me in 
the trying moment : how precious is Christ to my soul ! 

* glorious hour ! blest abode ! 
I shall be near, and like my God ; 
And flesh and sin no more control 
The sacred pleasures of my soul/ n 



SEC. IV.] CHRISTIAN WOMEN. 401 

A few days before her death, she said to the lady 
whose visits had been very useful to her, " I have been 
living on the promises of a gracious God. I find Jesus 
Christ increasingly precious ; I long to depart, I pray 
for patience while he delays the coming of his chariot 
wheels." 

The day previous to her departure, the glories of the 
eternal world were so wonderfully displayed to her view, 
as made her almost insensible where she was. She 
said: "I am not able to express half of what I feel; I 
know not scarcely where I am. that I could but tell 
you what joy I possess ! I am full of rapture ; the 
Lord doth shine with such power upon my soul. Vic- 
tory! victory! victory! 

1 Jesus, I know his charming name ; 
His name is all my trust ; 
He will not put my soul to shame, 
Nor let my hope be lost/ ;; 

Not long before she departed, she said, " Lord, thou 
hast promised to be with me to the end." And then, 
with rapture, exclaimed, - He is come ! he is come!" 

Thus this blessed woman, after a painful and linger- 
ing illness of eighteen months, entered triumphantly into 
the joy of her Lord, March 28, 1801. 



402 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



SECTION V. 

€f)rt0ttcm €|)Ub«n anir flotttl). 

1. WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 

"We miss them when the board is spread, 
We miss them when the prayer is said ; 
Upon our dreams their dying eyes 
In still and mournful fondness lies. — Newman. 

The interesting narrative recorded by the Rev. E. 
Bickersteth, of the final hours of Wilberforce Richmond, 
the second son of the Rev. L. Richmond, late rector of 
Turvey, will supply an illustration of early piety, and of 
its power to sustain the mind of the young in the pros- 
pect of coming dissolution. 

This youth afforded remarkable promise of strong in- 
tellectual power, united with a lively and playful tem- 
perament, and open and honourable dispositions. He 
had been early — perhaps too early — intended for the 
clerical profession; though, conscious himself of its 
deep responsibilities, he for some time rather shrunk 
from than sought that office. The evidences, however, 
of a work of God upon his soul, became increasingly 
clear and manifest, though, with a reserve which was 
extremely painful to his father, he shrunk from convers- 
ing freely upon subjects of experimental piety. 

Pulmonary symptoms became soon apparent, and 
Wilberforce took a journey to Scotland, for the benefit 
of medical advice on the state of his health. A small 
cottage was engaged for him at Rothsay, in the isle of 
Bute. His residence here, however, seemed to develop 
rather than to check his unfavourable symptoms, and he 
returned to Turvey, to die. All reserve was now 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 403 

banished from him, and he unbosomed himself to his 
anxious, but delighted parent, with the most affectionate 
confidence. 

" He opened his whole heart to his father, told him 
minutely of all his past conflicts, spoke of his present 
comforts, and begged that he might be closely examined. 
He wished to satisfy his parent and pastor that his faith 
was Scriptural and sincere. ... He would sit for 
hours with his dear father, in the study, supported in an 
easy chair, telling him of all he had gone through, en- 
treating his pardon for the uneasiness he had occasioned 
him by his past silence, and expressing his great joy at 
now being able to converse with freedom, and mingle 
their souls together in the delightful interchange of con- 
fidence. It was now that our beloved father was well 
comforted, and that he received a full answer to patient 
prayer." So writes his endeared sister. 

In answer to his father's question, " What are your 
present feelings, my dear boy ?" 

"I feel, papa," he replied, "more hope than joy. I 
have read of ecstasies in the view of dying, which others 
have experienced, and to which I am still a stranger; but 
I have a hope founded on the word of God, which cheers 
and supports me. I know in whom I have trusted, and 
I believe he will neither leave me nor forsake me. I am 
not afraid of death ; but as I think my time will not be 
long, 1 vfish to put myself into the Lord's hand, and 
then into yours, that you may search and try me, 
whether I am in any error." 

" I found his mind," writes his father, " clear as to the 
great principle of his acceptance with God, clearly and 
unequivocally through the death and righteousness of 
Christ. In the most simple and satisfactory manner he 
renounced all dependence upon every word and deed of 
his own. ' It is,' said he, 'as a guilty sinner before God, 
that I throw myself upon his mercy ; I have no excuse to 



404 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

offer for myself, no plea to put in why God should not 
utterly destroy me, but that Jesus died to save, to par- 
don, and to bless me. It is his free gift, and not my 
deserving. 0, papa ! what would become of me if sal- 
vation were by works ? What have I ever done ? and, 
above all, what, in my present state, could I now do, to 
merit anything at his hands ? God forbid that I should 
rest upon such a flimsy, fallacious system of divinity as 
that which ascribes merit to man. I have no merit. I 
can have none. I thank God I have long known this. 
I fear many trust in themselves, and thus rob Christ of 
his glory.' 

"I referred," says his father, at another time, "to a 
conversation which I once had with an individual, who 
objected to an application of that expression, ' the chief 
of sinners,' to himself, and said it was only intended to 
describe the peculiar circumstances of St. Paul. ' Then 
I am sure,' said Wilberforce, ' that person could not have 
been rightly convinced of guilt in his own conscience. 
I do not know what the critic may say on such a pas- 
sage, but I am quite satisfied that when the heart is 
opened to itself, the expression, " chief of sinners," will 
not appear too strong to describe its character. 1 have 
often heard you say, papa, that the view of religion which 
most honours God, is that which most debases the sin- 
ner, and exalts the Saviour. I never felt this to be so 
true as at the present moment.' His pallid, but intelli- 
gent countenance, as he said this, seemed to express 
more than he could find words to utter." 

Towards the close of his life, when his fever ran high, 
he awaked from a short doze. " I observed him," again 
says his father, " rest his eyes on a globe of water, which 
stood near the window and contained a gold-fish. I in- 
quired what he was looking at so earnestly. He replied, 
' I have often watched the mechanical motion of our gold 
and silver-fish in that globe. There is now only one 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 405 

left, and that seems to be weak and sickly. I wonder 
which of us will live the longer, that fish or I.' He 
paused, and then added, ' That fish, my dear papa, is 
supported by the water in the vessel, but I hope I am 
supported by the waters of salvation. The fish will 
soon die, and live no more ; but if I am upheld by the 
water of salvation, I shall live forever.' Soon after, a 
gleam of light from the setting sun shone upon the gold- 
fish, and produced a brilliant reflection from its scales, 
as it swam in the glass vessel. ' Look/ said he, ' at its 
beauty now.' 

" So, my dear boy, may a bright and more glorious 
sun shine on you, and gild the evening of your days." 

" * 1 hope,' he replied, ' although I sometimes feel a 
cloud and a doubt pass across my mind, that in the 
evening-time there shall be light; and then in His light 
I shall see light.' " 

The conflicts of this young man as death approached, 
were sometimes unusually severe. " death, death ! 
what is it ? I have still to go through death — the dark 
valley." Suddenly, with a wild expression of counte- 
nance, and in a bitter tone, he exclaimed, " agony ! 
agony ! agony ! I shall perish after all ! Satan will 
have me after all! Papa, pray for me; he tells me I 
shall be lost — he tells me my sins will damn me. 0, 
papa, this is agony ! all is dark, dark — all gone, all lost ! 
And has Christ brought me thus far, to leave me at 
last?" 

The father remonstrated, wept, and prayed with his 
son. But he could not receive the offered consolation. 

" papa, what will become of me? I am going into 
the dark valley alone, Jesus has left me ! It is all 
dark, dark, dark ! The - rod and staff' do not support 
me. Satan fights hard for me, and he will carry me 
away at last." 

At length the cloud departed, and the sunshine of 



406 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART t 

salvation beamed again upon the spirit. Here is the 
blessed exit : — 

" ' What is to-morrow ?' he asked. 

" ' It is the Sabbath.' 

" He seemed pleased, and earnestly begged that the 
congregation might be requested to pray in the church. 
On Sunday morning he was much weaker, and his end 
was evidently fast approaching. To a kind friend, who 
had nursed him, he said, ' How do I look now V 

" She saw the approach of death in his languid eye 
and pallid countenance. ' You look worse, master Wil- 
berforce ; I do not think that you can live much longer.' 

" The effect produced by her opinion was truly aston- 
ishing. His dim eye lighted up, all his features as- 
sumed a new life, and, turning to her, he said : ' 0, thank 

you, dear Mrs. G ; good news — you tell me good 

news. Shall I indeed be in heaven to-day ?' His father 
came into the room. ' Papa,' said he, ' how do I look — 
am I altered ?' 

" ' No, my dear boy, I see little difference in you.' 

"He was evidently disappointed. 'Do you see no 

difference ?' said he, ' Mrs. Gr does. She has made 

me happy; she thinks I may die to-day.' 

" My father sat with him the whole of the day while 
we were at church, and Willy asked him to read the ser- 
vice for the visitation of the sick. He listened with de- 
vout attention, and when it was ended, he said, ' 0, my 
dear papa, what beautiful prayers! what an affecting 
service ! It expresses my whole heart.' 

" He then said to his mother, ' I love to look at you, 
mamma. I love to smile at you, but I want to smile at 
Jesus.' 

" He had been accustomed to teach a class in a Sun- 
day school, and begged that his dying message might be 
written down and sent to the children that evening. He 
had not been able to lie in bed for a week, owing to the 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 407 

pain in his side ; but on Sunday evening, he expressed 
a wish to be undressed and put to bed, being inclined to 
sleep. He was accordingly put to bed, and lay very 
tranquil and comfortable. His father stood watching 
beside him, till he thought him asleep. He then went 
to his study, as he afterwards told us, to pray, that if it 
were God's will his child might have quiet and ease in 
his last moments ; for he much dreaded the severity of 
a dying agony, which, from the past, he thought proba- 
ble. As he was going away, he blessed him, and, look- 
ing at him as he lay, serene and beautiful in his repose, 
he said : ' So He giveth his beloved sleep.' 

" Willy opened his eyes on hearing these words, and 
replied, ' Yes, dear papa ; and the rest which Christ 
gives is sweet.' These were his last words. He imme- 
diately sank into a long and peaceful slumber. We 

were sitting near him. Mrs. Gr , his faithful nurse, 

stood and watched beside him. We could hear dis- 
tinctly every breath he drew, and the least change in 
the sound was perceptible. One or two breathings were 
slower and longer, which made us get up and look at 
him. He appeared as if slumbering very sweetly. 
There was no alteration in his countenance, and we 

were going to sit down again, when Mrs. Gr said : 

' Call your papa immediately.' We did so, and he came 
just in time to hear his last sigh." 



408 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



2. ELIZA M- 



" These birds of paradise but long to flee 
Back to their native mansion." — Prophecy of Dante. 

The young lady whose departure is here narrated, was 
placed in that rank of life, in which an opportunity is 
possessed for following the gayeties of the world. 

" Before it pleased God to engage her attention to the 
great concerns of a future state, she was in some danger 
of being too much captivated with the fascinating splen- 
dour of gay and polite life. The death of a relation was 
the means, in the hand of the Almighty, of leading her 
to see, in a just light, the vanity of the world. This 
event produced such sensations and reflections in her 
mind, as had the most salutary tendency. She began 
to be apprehensive, from the precarious state of her 
health, that she had no reason to expect a long continu- 
ance here. Death, at that time, appeared to her with a 
most dreadful aspect, because she knew herself to be a 
sinner, and not in a state of reconciliation and friendship 
with God. 

" The pardon of sin, the sanctification of her nature, 
and a disposition suited to the heavenly world, she was 
fully convinced, were necessary to future happiness. 
For many childish and youthful follies she stood self- 
condemned ; and though she did not make known her in- 
ward disquietudes to any one, she had, for some time, 
sore conflicts in her own breast. She sought relief from 
God only, pouring out her requests before his throne 
for that mercy which is never denied to those who sin- 
cerely ask it in the name of Jesus. He who hath said, 
' I love them that love me, and those that seek me early 
shall find me/ was pleased to manifest himself to her, in 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 109 

so gracious a manner as at once to remove her disquiet- 
ing fears, and establish her mind in hope and tranquil- 
lity. She was enabled to say, with humble confidence, 
' I am weak indeed, but Christ is strong ; I am poor, but 
he is rich ; I am sick, but he is the Physician ; I am a 
sinner, but he is the Saviour of sinners. I find in him 
everything answerable to my needs.' His atoning sacri- 
fice gave relief to her wounded conscience, and joy to 
her desponding heart. Renouncing all confidence in the 
flesh, she, from this period, looked for all her salvation 
from the Redeemer's cross. 

" When the disorder of which she died began to pre- 
vail, she earnestly requested Mr. Fawcett, a neighbour- 
ing minister, to visit her as often as his other concerns 
would permit. He soon found her intelligent and con- 
versable upon Divine subjects, far beyond what he ex- 
pected. Her conceptions of the way of salvation were 
clear, her faith in the Redeemer steady, and her hope 
lively. Flattering expectations were sometimes raised 
respecting her recovery. The ablest physicians at- 
tended her, and every method was adopted in order to 
restore her debilitated frame ; but though she was often 
relieved, and the threatening sj'mptoms checked for a 
season, yet, to the great distress of her affectionate pa- 
rents, she visibly declined in strength, and wasted away 
by slow degrees. 

" When a minister is called to visit the afflicted, he 
often finds himself under great embarrassment. To 
discourse with them concerning death, and the necessity 
of being prepared for that awful event, is thought harsh 
and severe. He that w T ould deal faithfully with them, 
and admonish them of their danger, need not expect to 
be often invited. But this was far, very far from being 
the case with our young friend. She knew herself to be 
in dying circumstances, and had no wish to be told that 

there was hope of recovery. Though her expectations 

IS 



410 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

of a temporal kind were considerable, she freely relin- 
quished them all, and became not only indifferent to all 
earthly things, but actually dead to them. She might 
well say, 

* ; Tis finished now, the great deciding part ; 
The world's subdued, and heaven has all my heart/ 

" When she saw her affectionate mother weeping by 
her, she always endeavoured to comfort her by such 
words as these : ' Mamma, do not weep for me, I am quite 
happy ; I have no wish to live ; if I might have life by 
wishing for it, I should rather choose to die and go to 
my Redeemer.' Such entire victory over the world, 
in one of her years, and circumstanced as she was, is 
very uncommon, and can only be the effect of that faith 
which overcometh the world, as it ' is the substance of 
things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.' 

" When select portions of the Divine word were read 
to her, she listened with the most ardent attention, and 
often signified how comforting and supporting it was to 
her mind. Though her weakness and pain increased 
from week to week, she never seemed to be weary of 
religious exercises. Her request, when Mr. Fawcett left 
her, generally was, ' Come again soon,' or, ' When will 
you favour me with another visit?' When prevented 
by other engagements from attending her at the time 
she expected him, he sometimes transmitted to her a few 
hasty lines, which he knew to be expressive of the senti- 
ments of her mind. These she presently committed to 
memory, and adopted as her own. 

" Though she was much endeared to her friends, yet 
they could not but desire to see the time of her release. 
Her sufferings were great and long- continued; but she 
was a pattern of sweet resignation, of dignified patience, 
of noble fortitude, and of entire deadness to everything 
below. Her heart and her hopes were above. Death 



SEC, V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 411 

was not to her the object of dread, but of desire. She 
settled every little circumstance of a temporal nature, in 
the prospect of her end, with the utmost composure, and 
talked of dying as of going some pleasant journey. 
' What, my dear Miss,' said one of her attendants, ' are 
you not afraid of the pains of death V She assured her, 
that she felt no terror in that respect, for her merciful 
Saviour was able to support her. She often said under 
her sharpest pains, 'I am very happy; I would not 
change situations with anyone living.' The little stock 
of money she had in her possession, she divided into 
small sums, and sent them to the most needy and de- 
serving objects she could remember." 

The following is Mr. Fawcett's account of his last 
visit to her : — 

"My last visit to her was on Sunday evening, Sep- 
tember 22. I found her extremely ill, but supported 
amidst her agonies by a lively hope of celestial felicity, 
and full of heavenly comfort, A deadly coldness had 
already begun to seize her emaciated hand. I told her 
her warfare was nearly accomplished. She replied with 
the sweetest composure, ' I hope it is.' She wished me 
once more to assist her devotions, and particularly to 
pray for her release ; I endeavoured to do so, in a few 
short petitions, commending her soul to the hands of her 
Redeemer, whom having not seen she loved ; in which 
she appeared to join in the most fervent manner. After 
having suggested a few consolatory hints, with a view to 
confirm her faith in the last conflict, I took my leave, not 
expecting to see her again till we should meet in the 
world of spirits. Her cough was incessantly trouble- 
some, her pain in every part very great, and her weak- 
ness not to be described. 

" Soon after I left her she desired to be moved, and 
feeling the springs of life begin to fail, she said to her 
attendants : ' It is now over,' or words to that purpose. 



412 



DEATH-BED SCENES. 



[PART I. 



She appeared to be perfectly sensible, calm, and com- 
posed to the last, often saying, as long as she could be 
heard to speak, ' Come, Lord Jesus !' At half-past nine 
she breathed out her happy spirit into the bosom of him 
who had long marked her for his own. 

' She in a sacred calm resigned her breath, 
And as her eyelids closed, she smiled in death/ 

" At the early age of fifteen she thus joyfully entered 
that rest which remains for the people of God." 



3. ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 

" Flowers that once have loved to linger 

In the world of human love, 
Touch'd by death's decaying finger 

For better life above ! 
! ye stars ! ye rays of glory ! 

Gem-lights in the glittering dome ! 
Could ye not relate a story 

Of the spirits gather'd home ?" 

Religion in no situation appears more lovely than in 
its youngest votaries, and never are its triumphs more 
brilliant, than when it gilds, with beams of heavenly 
light, the dying scenes of those who are summoned in 
the prime of youth, to pass through the dark valley of 
the shadow of death. 

Eliza Cunningham was born February, 6, 1771, and 
soon after she had completed her twelfth year, she was 
committed to the care of her uncle, the Rev. John 
Newton. 

"I soon perceived," says Mr. Newton, "that the Lord 
had sent me a treasure indeed. Eliza's person was 
agreeable. There was an ease and elegance in her 
whole address, and a gracefulness in her movements, till 
long illness and great weakness bowed her down. Her 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 413 

disposition was lively, her genius quick and inventive, 
and if she had enjoyed health, she probably would have 
excelled in everything she attempted, that required in- 
genuity. Her understanding, particularly her judgment, 
and her sense of propriety, was far above her years. 
But her principal endearing qualities, were the sweet- 
ness of her temper, and a heart formed for the exercise 
of affection, gratitude, and friendship. I know not that 
either her aunt or I ever saw a cloud upon her counte- 
nance during the time she was with us. It is true we 
did not, we could nofc, unnecessarily cross her ; but if we 
thought it expedient to overrule any proposal she made, 
she acquiesced with a sweet smile, and we were certain 
that we should never hear of that proposal again. 

" Eliza had had a hectic fever which was subdued ; but 
still there was a worm preying upon the root of this 
pretty gourd. She had seldom any severe pain till 
within the last fortnight of her life, and usually slept 
well, but when awake she was always ill. I believe she 
knew not a single hour of perfect ease, and they who 
intimately knew her state, could not but wonder to see 
her so placid, cheerful, and attentive, when in company, 
as she generally was. 

" Her excellent parents had conscientiously endea- 
voured to bring her up in the nurture and admonition of 
the Lord, and the principles of religion had been instilled 
into her from her infancy. Their labours were thus far 
attended with success, that no child could be more obedi- 
ent and obliging, or more remote from evil habits or evil 
tempers ; but I could not perceive, when she first came 
to us, that she had any heart- affecting sense of Divine 
things. When I attempted to talk with her upon the 
concerns of her soul, she could give me no answer but 
with tears. But I soon had great encouragement to hope 
that the Lord had both enlightened her understanding 
and had drawn the desires of her heart to himself. 



414 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

" Eliza could seldom be prevailed on to speak of her- 
self, but as her illness gained strength it now became 
very desirable to hear from herself a more explicit ac- 
count of the hope that was in her. Saturday, the 1st of 
October, 1783, presented to her aunt a convenient op- 
portunity for intimating to her that the time of her 
departure was probably at hand. She appeared re- 
markably better, her pains were almost gone, her spirits 
revived, the favourable change was visible in her counte- 
nance. Her aunt began to break the subject to her, by 
saying, 'My dear, were you not extremely ill last 
night?' 

" She said, ' Indeed I was.' 

" ' Had you not been relieved I think you could not 
have continued long.' 

" ' I believe 1 could not.' 

" ' My dear, I have been very anxiously concerned for 
your life.' 

" 'But I hope, my dear aunt, you are not so now.' 

" She then opened her mind and spoke freely. The 
substance was to this effect : ' My views of things have 
been for some time very different from what they were 
when I came to you. I have seen and felt the vanity of 
childhood and youth.' 

"Her aunt said, ' I believe you have long made a con- 
science of secret prayer.' 

" She answered, * Yes, I have long and earnestly sought 
the Lord with reference to the change which is now ap- 
proaching. I have not yet the full assurance which is 
so desirable, but I have a hope, I trust, a good hope, and 
I believe the Lord will give me whatever he sees neces- 
sary for me before he takes me from hence. I have 
prayed to him to fit me for himself, and then, whether 
sooner or later, it signifies but little.' 

" Her apparent revival was of short duration. In the 
evening of the same day, she began to complain of a sore 



SEC, V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 415 

throat, which became worse, and before Sunday noon 
threatened an absolute suffocation. When Dr. Benamor, 
who the day before had almost entertained hopes of her 
recovery, found her so suddenly and so greatly altered, 
he could not at the moment prevent some signs of his 
concern from appearing in his countenance. She quickly 
perceived it, and desired he would plainly tell her his 
sentiments. When he had recovered himself, he said, 
* You are not so well as when I saw you on Saturday.' 
She answered, ■ that she trusted all would be well soon.' 
He replied, that whether she lived or died it w r ould be 
well, and to the glory of God. 

" On Tuesday the 4th, about nine o'clock in the morn- 
ing, we all thought her dying and waited near two hours 
by her bed-side for her last breath. She was much con- 
vulsed, and in great agonies. I said, ' My dear, you 
are going to heaven, and I hope, by the grace of God, 
we in due time shall follow you.' 

" She could not speak, but let us know that she attended 
to what I said by a gentle nod of her head, and a sweet 
smile. I repeated to her many passages of Scripture, 
and verses of hymns, to each of which she made the 
same kind of answer. Though silent, her looks w r ere 
more expressive than words. Towards eleven o'clock, a 
great quantity of coagulated phlegm, w T hich she had not 
strength to bring up, made her rattle violently in the 
throat, which we considered as a sign that death was at 
hand ; and as she seemed unwilling to take something 
that w r as offered her, we were loth to disturb her in her 
last moments (as we supposed) by pressing her. I 
think she must have died in a quarter of an hour, had 
not Dr. Benamor just then come into the room. He 
felt her pulse, and observed, that she was not near death 
by her pulse, and desired something might be given her. 
She was perfectly sensible though still unable to speak, 
but expressed her unwillingness to take anything, by 



416 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

very strong efforts. However, she yielded to entreaty, 
and a tea- spoonful or two of some liquid soon cleared 
the passage, and she revived. Her pain, however, was 
extreme, and her disappointment great. 1 never saw 
her so near impatience as upon this occasion ; as soon 
as she could speak, she cried, ' 0, cruel, cruel, to recall 
me when I was so happy, and so near gone ! I wish 
you had not come ; I long to go home.' But in a few 
minutes she grew composed, assented to what the doctor 
said, of her duty to wait the Lord's time; and from that 
hour, though her desires to depart and to be with her 
Saviour were stronger and stronger, she cheerfully took 
whatever was offered her, and frequently asked for 
something of her own accord. 

" How often, if we w T ere to have our choice, should we 
counteract our own prayers ! I had entreated the Lord 
to prolong her life, till she could leave an indisputable 
testimony behind her for our comfort. Yet when I saw 
her agony, and heard her say, 0, how cruel to stop me ! 
I was for a moment almost of her mind, and could hardly 
help wishing that the doctor had delayed his visit a little 
longer. But if she had died then, we should have been 
deprived of what we saw and heard the two following 
days, the remembrance of which is now much more 
precious to me than silver or gold. 

" When the doctor came on Wednesday, she entreated 
him to tell her how long he thought she might live. He 
said, 'Are you in earnest, my dear?' She answered, 
' Indeed I am.' At that time there were great appear- 
ances that a mortification was actually begun. He 
therefore told her, he thought it possible she might hold 
out till eight in the evening, but did not suspect she 
could survive midnight at furthest. On hearing him 
say so, low as she was, her eyes seemed to sparkle with 
their former vivacity, and fixing them on him with an 
air of ineffable satisfaction, she said, * 0, that is good 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 417 

news indeed.' And she repeated it as such to a person 
who came soon after into the room, and said w T ith lively 
emotions of joy, ' The doctor tells me I shall stay here 
but a few hours more.' In the afternoon she noticed 
and counted the clock, 1 believe, every time it struck; 
and when it struck seven, she said : ' Another hour, and 
then.' But it pleased the Lord to spare her to us an- 
other day. 

" She suffered much in the course of Wednesday night, 
but was quite resigned and patient, and repeatedly 
thanked our kind servants for their services and atten- 
tion to her. She added her earnest prayers that the 
Lord would reward them. 

" I was surprised on Thursday morning to find her not 
only alive, but in some respects better. The tokens of 
mortification again disappeared. This was her last day, 
and it was a memorable day to us. When Dr. Benamor 
asked her how she was ? she answered, • Truly happy, 
and if this be dying, it is a pleasant thing to die.' She 
said to me about ten o'clock, ' My dear uncle, I would 
not change conditions with any person upon earth ; 
how gracious is the Lord to me ! what a change is 
before me !' She was several times asked, if she could 
wish to live, provided the Lord should restore her to per- 
fect health ? Her answer was : e JSfot for all the world ;' 
and sometimes, 'Not for a thousand worlds.' 

" She spoke a great deal to an intimate friend w T ho 
was with her every day, which I hope she will long re- 
member as the testimony of her dying Eliza. Amongst 
other things, she said, ' See how comfortable the Lord 
can make a dying bed ! Do you think you shall have 
such an assurance when you come to die ?' Being an- 
swered, ' I hope so, my dear.' She replied, ' But do you 
earnestly and with all your heart pray to the Lord for 
it? If you seek him you shall surely find him.' She 
then prayed affectionately and fervently for her friend, 



418 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

afterward for her cousin, and then for another of our 
family who was present. Her prayer was not long, 
but every word was weighty, and her manner very affect- 
ing — the purport was, that they might all be taught, and 
comforted by the Lord. About five in the afternoon 
she desired me to pray with her once more. Surely I 
then prayed from my heart. When I had finished, she 
said, Amen. I said, ' My dear child, have I expressed 
your meaning?' She answered, ' yes !' and then 
added, 'I am ready to say, " Why are thy chariot wheels 
so long in coming ?" But I hope he will enable me to 
wait his hour with patience.' These were the last words 
I heard her speak. 

" Towards seven o'clock, 1 was walking in the garden, 
and earnestly engaged in prayer for her, when a servant 
came to me and said, ' She is gone.' Lord, how great 
is thy power ! how great is thy goodness ! A few days 
before, had it been practicable and lawful, what would I 
not have given to procure her recovery ? yet seldom in 
my life have I known a more heart-felt joy, than when 
these words, ' She is gone,' sounded in my ears. I ran 
up stairs, and our whole little family were soon around 
her bed. Though her aunt and another person were 
sitting with their eyes fixed upon her, she was gone, per- 
haps a few minutes, before she was missed. She lay 
upon her left side, with her cheek gently reclining upon 
her hand as if in a sweet sleep. And I thought there 
was a smile upon her countenance. Never surely did 
death appear in a more beautiful, inviting form ! We 
fell upon our knees, and I returned, 1 think I may say, 
my most unfeigned thanks to our God and Saviour, for 
his abundant goodness to her, crowned in this last in- 
stance by giving her so gentle a dismission Yes, I am 
satisfied, I am comforted. And if one of the many in- 
voluntary tears I have shed, could have recalled her to 
life, to health, to an assemblage of all that this world 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 419 

could contribute to her happiness, I would have laboured 
hard to suppress it. Now my largest desires for her are 
accomplished. The days of her mourning are ended. 
She is landed on the peaceful shore, where the storms 
of trouble never blow. She is forever out of the reach 
of sorrow, sin, temptation, and snares. Now she is be- 
fore the throne ! She sees Him whom not having seen 
she loved ; she drinks of the rivers of pleasure which are 
at his right hand, and shall thirst no more. 

" She breathed her spirit into her Redeemer's hands 
a little before seven in the evening, on October 6, 1785, 
aged fourteen years and eight months." 



4. ELLEN FOULDS. 

Ellen was blessed with pious parents, and when about 
three or four years old she gave proofs of a serious 
mind. She delighted in attending worship with her 
parents, and when quite young became a very attentive 
hearer. Sometimes her mind was so deeply impressed 
with the great truths of the Gospel that the tears would 
run down over her face. Thus was her heart early 
affected in relation to Divine things. 

When Ellen was about six years old she was afflicted 
with the measles, and from that time was often unwell, 
and sometimes rather impatient. But in her last ill- 
ness, which occurred in her eleventh year, she was very 
different in this respect, and seemed much changed in 
her temper, and became very serious. 

During the last two months of her life her desires 
were placed on heaven. She was not afraid to die, nor 
did she wish to get better. 

Once her mother asked her why she was so desirous 
to die. She answered, " I long to go to heaven." Her 
mother then asked her if she never had any fears of 



420 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

going to hell. She said, "No." She put the same 
question to her again, and received the same answer. 
She then asked her if she thought she had never sinned. 
She said, " Yes, many and many a time ; but I think I 
shall be saved." She believed when she died she should 
see Jesus Christ and his holy angels, and be happy 
forever. 

This good little girl loved to pray, and often wanted 
her father to pray with her. She desired her mother to 
read about the sufferings of Jesus Christ : this she was 
very fond of; and once when her mother read to her 
the account of our Saviour's sufferings in the garden, 
she was much affected with these words : " And His 
sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down 
to the ground." The tears ran down her cheeks, a 
pleasing smile sat on her pale face, and she seemed de- 
sirous of going to Jesus, to live in his presence. 

She felt great love to Christ, and to all children who 
loved him. Jesus says, "I love them that love me, 
and they that seek me early shall find me." 

About two days before her death she said to her 
mother, "I think death is near — send for my father." 
On her mother replying he would be at home about 
eleven o'clock, she said, "But if he does not come soon 
he will be too late. If 1 see him no more, tell him to 
be sure to live to God when I am dead." 

At these words her mother was much affected, and 
said, " The Lord bless thee, my lamb." 

She replied, " I am blessed, and shall be blessed : do 
not weep for me ; and do not weep when I am buried : 
I shall go to heaven. If I had lived till I had been a 
woman, very likely I might have gone through a deal 
of trouble, and perhaps might have been very wicked, 
and been lost at last; but if I die now I shall be saved. 
This world will soon be over, and then some must go to 
the right hand of God, and some to the left. Whatever 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 421 

you do, be sure to live to God ; and tell people, when I 
am dead, to be good, and let none of your children 
break the Sabbath." 

In this way she talked as she could, till her strength 
failed her. 

About two hours after she appeared very happy, and 
repeated, as she sat up in bed, — 

" For ine ray elder brethren stay, 
And angels beckon me away, 
And Jesns bids me come." 

The day before she died some of her school-com- 
panions came to see her, whom she exhorted to fear 
and love God. She told them never to say any bad 
words, nor break the Sabbath ; and when they left her, 
she bade them farewell, and said, "May God bless you, 
and bring you to heaven when you die." 

At night she was very ill, and continued so until five 
or six o'clock the next morning, at which time she was 
much better ; and seeing her father kneeling at her bed- 
side, she said, "Father, you have a great deal to do in 
this world; but it willsoon be over; and whatever you 
do, take care to live to God." 

Upon her mother saying that she thought her sen- 
sible, Ellen looked at her, and replied, " Yes, I am sen- 
sible ; and whatever you do, be sure to live to God ; 
and tell people, when I am dead, to be good." 

She begged of them to take care of her brother and 
sisters that she was going to leave behind her, and to 
bring them up in the fear of God. 

A little before she died she said to her father, "I am 
happy." 

He replied, " Then you are not afraid to die ?" 

She answered, 'I am not;" and soon after her happy 
spirit left this world to be blessed with' the joys of 
paradise. 



422 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



5. SOPHIA TRENTHAM. 

When about six years old Sophia went to the Sunday 
school, and was very constant in her attendance. Her 
conduct toward her school-fellows and teachers was 
such as gained their esteem. 

While she continued in a state of health nothing could 
prevent her from going to school on Sundays : though 
idle girls sometimes wished her to stay away, she would 
not hear them ; and however it might rain or snow, she 
was always present to receive instruction. Meekness, 
love, and kindness, were so manifest in all her actions, 
that she was beloved by all, and held up as a pattern 
for others. 

She was very fond of her parents, and was always 
ready to do what she could to show her love to 
them. 

At eight years of age she became more serious than 
ever she had been before, and gladly received religious 
instruction. From this time she became very earnest 
in prayer, and often in the evening she would have all 
the family together to pray with them, and afterwards 
would retire to bed with praises in her mouth. 

When she was about eleven or twelve years of age 
she had a clear testimony of the favour of Heaven, and 
knew that she was a child of God. 

A little before she was taken ill, she was talking to 
her mother about the goodness of God to her, and of 
her own weakness ; and seemed to have such a view of 
herself that she could not forbear saying, " that it 
would please God to take me to himself! I had much 
rather die before I commit any more sin." 

When she was first afflicted, she told her mother she 
believed she should die. " Yes," she said, "I shall 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 423 

die." She was the most concerned that she was kept 
from her school and from the means of grace. 

Owing to her complaint, she could talk but little : 
however, she told her mother again that she should die. 
Her mother began to weep over her: but she said, 
"Don't cry, mother; I shall be happy! happy! very 
happy !" which was all she could then say. 

About two days after, one of her teachers called to 
see her, who asked her how she found the state of her 
mind. She answered, " Very happy." After she had 
been still a little, she pointed to one part of the room, 
and said, " See ! see ! there are angels ! — there are an- 
gels!" Joy beamed in her face, and she seemed as 
though her time was fully come. 

Sometimes she smiled ; her lips were seen to move, 
and she was heard to say, " I am coming ! I am coming !" 
and immediately resigned her soul into the hands of 
her God. She died in 1802, aged fourteen years. 



6. THE LITTLE BOY'S LAST PRAYER. 

A Pious little boy, who attended the Sabbath school, a 
few hours before his death broke out into singing, and 
sung so loud as to cause his mother to inquire what he 
was doing. 

" I am singing my sister's favourite hymn, mother." 

"But why, my dear, so loud?" 

"Why?" said he, with peculiar emphasis ; "because I 
am so happy !" 

Just before his death, with uplifted hands, he ex- 
claimed, "Father! Father! take me, Father!" His 
father went to lift him up, when, with a smile, he said, 
"1 did not call you, father; but I was calling to my 
heavenly Father to take me ; I shall soon be with him :" 
and then expired. 



424 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I, 



7. MARY FRANCES RIGHT. 

Mary Frances Right departed this life, in the city 
of New- York, on the 24th of October, 1850, aged eight 
years and ten months. She was a child of most amiable 
disposition, and delighted in her Sabbath school. Her 
father preceded her a few months to the eternal world ; 
and her mind became deeply interested in the things of 
death and heaven. 

When first taken sick, she seemed to anticipate her 
departure ; but it did not in the least disturb her peace. 
She frequently asked her mother and friends to sing ; 
and seemed to long to join in the praises of God. 
Looking up to her mother, she said, " You have been a 
kind mother to me ;" and then, musing a moment, she 
added, " Though father is dead, I have a kinder Father 
and Friend in heaven." When so weak that she could 
not remember the Lord's prayer, she desired her mother 
to help her, and seemed to take great delight in breath- 
ing out its petitions to her Father in heaven. She said 
she wished to be buried by the side of her dear papa, 
and she knew she should be with him in heaven. 

At one time, just before she died, she appeared very 
happy ; and in her ecstasy, looking up and around, she 
cried out, " I see heaven, and the angels are round about 
my bed." Her mother asked whether she would rather 
die or live. To which she replied, " I would rather die, 
and go home to heaven." 

Thus departed this little girl, giving the most unmis- 
takable evidence that the seeds of truth sown in her 
youthful breast had been productive of the most blessed 
fruit. 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 425 



8. "I HAVE A GREAT HIGH PRIEST." 

A little boy, who was educated in one of the London 
Hibernian schools in the county of Roscommon, was 
seized by sickness, and confined to his bed. In a few 
days his dissolution seemed to be near. The parents 
of the boy being Roman Catholics, sent immediately 
for the priest, to have the rites of their Church ad- 
ministered, which, in their estimation, was the needful 
preparation for heaven. On the arrival of the priest, 
the boy seemed much confused, and astonished at his 
coming. "Your visit," said the boy, "was altogether 
unnecessary ; I have no need of your help or assistance : 
I have a great High Priest at the right hand of the 
Majesty in the heavens, able to save to the uttermost 
all that come unto Grod by him. He lives forevermore, 
to make intercession; and He is such a Priest as I 
require." The priest, perceiving it to be in vain to 
reason at such a time, and knowing the boy to have 
been made acquainted with the Bible, went away. The 
child requested his parents to send for his schoolmaster, 
who stated that he never witnessed such a scene; it 
was altogether unexpected. The boy was always silent; 
though he was attentive to the instructions given at 
school, he never once hinted a change in his sentiments. 
In the course of conversation he was asked if he was 
afraid to die. "No," replied the boy; "my Redeemer 
is Lord of the dead and living ; I love him for his love 
to me, and soon I hope to be with him to see his glory." 



426 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



9. SON OF THE DUKE OF HAMILTON. 

A consumptive disease seized the eldest son and heir 
of the duke of Hamilton, which ended in his death. A 
little before his departure from the world, he lay ill at 
the family seat near Glasgow. Two ministers had 
come to see him; the duchess, fearful of fatiguing 

him, said to one of them, "Mr. , if my son, when 

you go in, asks you to pray with him, I wish you to 
decline it." 

He bowed, and entered the room where the youth 
lay. After a conversation on subjects relating to the 
soul and eternity, they rose to depart. 

" You will pray with me, Mr. ," said the lovely 

youth, " before you go." 

The minister bowed, and begged to decline it. 

"Why?" said the young duke. 

" Her grace rather wished me not to do so." 

"And pray, sir," said he to the other minister, "did 
her grace lay any such injunction upon you?" 

He replied, "No." 

"0, well, then," said he, "you may do it without 
disobeying her." 

After the minister had prayed, the dying youth put 
his hand back, and took his Bible from under his pil- 
low, and opened it at the passage, " I have fought a 
good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the 
faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of 
righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, 
shall give me at that day — and not to me only, but 
unto all them that love his appearing." " This, sirs," 
said he, "is all my comfort." 

As he was lying on the sofa, his tutor was conversing 
with him on some astronomical subject, and about the 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 427 

nature of the fixed stars. " Ah," said he, " in a little 
while I shall know more of this than all of you together." 
When his death approached, he called his brother to 
his bed-side, and, addressing him with the greatest 
affection and seriousness, he closed with these remark- 
able words : — " And now, Douglas, in a little time you 
will be a duke, but I shall be a king." 



10. THE DYING MINER BOY. 

This story relates to a poor boy, who worked in a coal- 
mine in the north of England. The love of God dwelt 
in his heart, and made him diligent and obedient. Every 
night, after his toil was over, he read the Bible to his 
mother. 

At length a terrible accident happened. By a sudden 
rush of water into the mine all communication with the 
outer world was cut off for a time, and seventy-five per- 
sons, who were at work in the interior of the pit, perished 
for want of fresh air. The boy we have mentioned, and 
his father, were among the number ; though another 
child of the family, named Johnny, who was nearer the 
mouth of the pit when the water came in, escaped. 
When the bodies of the dead were brought out, a box 
which the boy had with him in the mine, was carried to 
his mother. What must have been her feelings, when 
she discovered on the top of the box these words : — 
" Fret not, dear mother, for we were singing while we 
had time, and praising God!" The thoughtful and 
kind boy, amid the darkness of the pit, had written 
this with a bit of sharp iron, to console his mother. On 
the other side of the box he had also written for his 
father, who could not write himself, this message: — 
"If Johnny is saved, be a good lad to God and thy 
mother." 



428 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 



11. THE MOUNTAIN BOY. 

A clergyman in the county of Tyrone had, for some 
weeks, observed a little ragged boy come every Sunday 
and place himself in the centre of the aisle, directly 
opposite the pulpit, where he seemed exceedingly 
attentive to the service. He was desirous of knowing 
who the child was, and for this purpose hastened out, 
after the sermon, several times, but never could see him, 
as he vanished the moment service was over, and no 
one knew whence he came, or anything about him. At 
length the boy was missed from his usual situation in 
the church for some weeks. At this tftne a man called 
on the minister, and told him a person very ill was de- 
sirous of seeing him ; but added, " I am really ashamed 
to ask you to go so far ; but it is a child of mine, and 
he refuses to have any one but you: he is altogether an 
extraordinary boy, and talks a great deal about things 
that I do not understand." The clergyman promised 
to go, and went, though the rain poured down in tor- 
rents, and he had six miles of rugged mountain country 
to pass. On arriving where he was directed, he saw a 
most wretched cabin indeed, and the man he had seen 
in the morning was waiting at the door. He was shown 
in, and found the inside of the hovel as miserable as the 
outside. In a corner, on a little straw, he beheld a 
person stretched out, whom he recognised as the little 
boy who had so regularly attended his church. As he 
approached the wretched bed, the child raised himself 
up, and stretching forth his arms, said, " His own right 
hand hath gotten him the victory," (Psa. xcviii, 1,) and 
immediately expired. 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 429 



12. SPIRITUAL RECOGNITIONS. 

The following sketch, touchingly beautiful, cannot be 
read without interest. It was communicated by an eye- 
witness to the National Era: — 

" A little girl, in a family of my acquaintance, a lovely 
and precocioift child, lost her mother at an age too early 
to fix the loved features in her remembrance. She was 
as frail as beautiful ; and as the bud of her heart un- 
folded, it seemed as if won by that mother's prayers to 
turn instinctively heavenward. The sweet, conscien- 
tious, and prayer-loving child, was the idol of the be- 
reaved family. But she faded away early. She would 
lie upon the lap of the friend who took a mother's kind 
care of her, and, winding one wasted arm about her 
neck, would say, 'Now tell me about my mamma!' 
And when the oft- told tale had been repeated, she 
would ask, softly, ' Take me into the parlour ; I want 
to see my mamma.' The request was never refused ; 
and the affectionate child would lie for hours, content- 
edly gazing on her mother's portrait. But 

' Pale and wan she grew, and weakly — 
Bearing all her pain so meekly, 
That to them she still grew dearer, 
As the trial-hour drew nearer/ 

" That hour came at last, and the weeping neighbours 
assembled to see the little child die. The dew of death 
was already on the flower, as its life- sun was going 
down. The little chest heaved faintly — spasmodically. 

" ' Do you know me, darling ?' sobbed, close in her 
ear, the voice that was dearest ; but it awoke no 
answer. 

" All at once a brightness, as if from the upper world, 



430 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

burst over the child's colourless countenance. The eye- 
lids flashed open, the lips parted, the wan, cuddling 
hands flew up, in the little one's last impulsive effort, 
as she looked piercingly into the far above. 

" 'Mother!' she cried, with surprise and transport 
in her tone — and passed with that breath to her mother's 
bosom." 



13. "FRANKY." 

The subjoined affecting tale, taken from Mrs. Whittle- 
sey's Magazine, is appropriate to our present pur- 
pose : — 

" In one of our Western towns, a minister of Jesus 
Christ was one morning told by his wife that a little 
boy, the son of a near neighbour, was very sick, near to 
death, and asked if he would not go in and see him. 

" 'I hardly know what to do,' said the good man; 
' his parents, you know, do not belong to my congrega- 
tion ; and are, besides, greatly opposed to the doctrines 
which I preach. I fear my visit would not be well re- 
ceived.' 

" 'But,' rejoined the wife, 'when you were sick, a 
short time since, the mother of the little boy sent in 
kindly every day to inquire how you were, and I think 
they will expect you to come and see their son.' 

" This was a sufficient inducement, and he was soon 
on his way to the dwelling of sorrow. The mother was 
hanging in anguish over her precious and beautiful 
child, who was tossing from side to side in the delirium 
of a brain fever. 

" The minister, after watching him a few moments, 
turned to the lady, and said, ' This poor little fellow 
should be kept perfectly quiet, madam ; he should not 
be excited in any manner.' 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 431 

" ' Sir,' said she, 'will you offer a prayer?' 

"At first he hesitated, fearing the effect upon the 
child; but, on second thought, knelt at the bed-side, 
and uttered a few petitions in His name who said, 
' Suffer little children to come unto me.' The moment 
he commenced speaking, the little sufferer, who till now 
seemed unconscious of his presence, ceased his moans, 
lay still upon the bed, and fixing his large dark eyes 
upon him, listened intently to every word. The minis- 
ter rose from his knees, said a few words to the mother, 
and went home, leaving the child in a perfectly tranquil 
state. The next morning the first intelligence which 
greeted him was, that little Frank had died during 
the night. 

" He had become extremely interested, and the appa- 
rent effect of the voice of prayer upon the dying boy 
had surprised him. He went again to visit the family, 
attended the funeral, and at length learned from the 
mother the following facts : — 

" She had two children. Frank was the oldest, and 
the second was a daughter of five years. A few months 
before, little Alice had gone to spend the night with 
some companions in the neighbourhood, whose parents 
were Christians, and were training their children to 
follow their steps. As they were about retiring to rest, 
these little ones said to their visitor, ' Come, Alice, kneel 
clown with us, and say, " Our Father," before we go 
to bed.' 

" The child, bewildered by their words and kneeling 
attitude, answered, ' But I do not know what " our Fa- 
ther" is.' 

" 'Well, don't you want to learn it?' said one. 

" ' yes,' said Alice ; and, being a bright little girl, 
she soon committed to memory the precious form of 
prayer which has gone up from so many lips since the 
Saviour first uttered it. 



432 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

" The next morning, full of animation, and delighted 
with her new acquisition, she returned home ; and the 
moment her brother Frank appeared from school, she 
began to tell him all about her visit, and beg him to 
learn ' Our Father,' and say it with her. From that 
time, the mother said, kneeling together, they had daily 
repeated the Lord's Prayer with great earnestness and 
delight, and had also learned other prayers, in which 
they seemed much interested. A few days before he 
was taken sick, Frank had come to her with a book in 
his hand, and said, ' 0, mother, here is a beautiful 
prayer; will you let me read it to you?' It was the 
remembrance of this which induced her to make the 
request that the minister would pray by the bed of her 
suffering boy, and this was the secret of the calming 
influence which that prayer exerted. He continued thus 
tranquil a long time ; but at length his distress return- 
ed, and the hour of death drew near. About midnight, 
suffering and agonized, he begged of his mother to send 
for the good minister to pray again. He must have 
somebody to pray. The parents disliked to call him at 
that hour of the night, and knew not what to do. At 
last the mother went up stairs, and taking the little 
sleeping Alice from her bed, brought her to her bro- 
ther's bed-side, and told her what Frank wanted. 
Immediately she knelt down, and slowly and solemnly 
repeated the prayer which they both so much loved, 
and then, unasked, said, — 

" ' Now Franky lays him clown to sleep, 
I pray the Lord his soul to keep ; 
If he should die before he wake, 
I pray the Lord his soul to take/ 

The first words soothed the sufferer, and with the last 
his spirit fled. 
"Witnessed earth ever a sublimer spectacle? At 



SEC. V.] CHRISTIAN CHILDREN AND YOUTH. 433 

the dead hour of night, in the chamber where waits the 
king of terrors, surrounded by weeping friends, the 
infant of five summers, roused hastily from the sweet 
slumbers of childhood, kneels in her simple night-dress, 
and, undisturbed, unterrified, lisps in childish accents 
the prayer which Heaven accepts, and on whose 
breath missioned angels bear upward the ransomed 
soul." 

Surely they labour not in vain who sow precious 
seed in the fresh soil of youthful hearts. 

19 



434 DEATH- BED SCENES. [PART I. 



SECTION VI. 

1. CARDINAL RICHELIEU. 

1 ' Man, fool man ! here buries all his thoughts, 
Inters celestial hopes without one sigh." — Young. 

Richelieu, an eminent cardinal and minister of state 
in France, was born of a noble family at the castle of 
Richelieu, in the year 1585. Being a man of prodigious 
capacity, and of a restless and insatiable ambition, he 
formed vast designs, which made his life a series of agi- 
tations and perplexities. He found himself frequently 
under the necessity of opposing the grandees of the 
kingdom, the royal family, the whole house of Austria, 
and even Louis XIII. himself. Amidst his greatest 
and most arduous concerns, he did not neglect to culti- 
vate literature, and to show himself a patron of men of 
letters. He manifested a particular regard for persons 
of the religious orders ; and advanced those who were 
most remarkable for their abilities and virtues. He 
made many friends, and many enemies, but his consum- 
mate policy enabled him to triumph over all the machi- 
nations of his opponents. 

When this great statesman approached the conclusion 
of his time, he became very serious, and acknowledged 
to Peter du Moulin, the celebrated French Protestant, 
that he had often been hurried into measures which his 
conscience disapproved. " That he had been urged into 
many irregularities, by what is called state policy; 
that as he could not tell how to satisfy his conscience 
for these deviations from rectitude, he had many tempta- 
tions to disbelieve the existence of a God, a future state, 



SEC. VI.] WORLDLY-MINDED PROFESSORS. 435 

and the immortality of the soul — and, by these means, 
to quiet the upbraidings of his mind. But in vain. So 
strong was the idea of God in his soul, so clear the im- 
pression of him upon the frame of the world, so unani- 
mous the consent of mankind, and so powerful the con- 
victions of his own conscience, that he could not avoid 
feeling the necessity of admitting a Supreme Being, and 
a future state ; and he wished to live as one that must 
die, and to die as one that must live forever." 

The serious state of his mind increased as he drew 
near his last hour. A person who came to see him, in- 
quired, "why he was so sad?" The cardinal replied: 
11 The soul is a serious thing ; it must either be sad here 
for a moment, or be sad forever." 

He died in 1642, amidst storms and perils, before he 
had completed his designs, leaving behind him a name, 
splendid indeed, but by no means dear and venerable. 



2. CARDINAL WOLSEY. 

"Had I "but served my God with, half the zeal 
I served my king, he would not in mine age 
Have left me naked to mine enemies." — Wolsey. 

Thomas Wolsey, a distinguished person in the reign 
of Henry VIII., was born in the year 1471, and it is 
said he was the son of a butcher at Ipswich. Being 
made chaplain to the king, he had great opportunities of 
gaining his favour, to obtain which he practised all the 
arts of obsequiousness. Having gradually acquired an 
entire ascendency over the mind of Henry, he success- 
ively obtained several bishoprics; and, at length, was 
made archbishop of York, lord high chancellor of Eng- 
land, and prime minister, and was, for several years, the 
arbiter of Europe. The emperor Charles the fifth, and 
the French king Francis the first, courted his interest, 



436 



DEATH-BED SCENES. 



[PART I. 



and loaded him with favours. As his revenues were 
immense, and his influence unbounded, his pride and 
ostentation were carried to the greatest height. He had 
eight hundred servants, among whom were nine or ten 
lords, fifteen knights, and forty esquires. 

From this great height of power and splendour he 
was suddenly precipitated into ruin. His ambition to 
be pope, his pride, his exactions, and his opposition to 
Henry's divorce, occasioned his disgrace. This sad re- 
verse so affected his mind, as to bring on a severe illness, 
which soon put a period to his days. A short time be- 
fore he left the world, the review of his life, and a con- 
sciousness of the misapplication of his time and talents, 
drew from him this sorrowful declaration : " Had 1 but 
served God as diligently as I have served the king, he 
would not have given me over in my gray hairs. But 
this is the just reward that 1 must receive for my in- 
dulgent pains and study, not regarding my service to 
God, but only to my prince." 

With these painful reflections this famous cardinal 
finished his course. He affords a memorable instance 
of the variety and inconstancy of human things, both in 
his rise and fall, and a striking admonition to those who 
are abusing the talents and opportunities which God has 
given them to promote his honour and the happiness 
of men. 



SEC. VI.] WORLDLY-MINDED PROFESSORS. 437 



3. CESAR BORGIA. 

"Hast thou by statute shoved from its design 
The Saviour's feast, his own blest bread and wine ; 
And made the symbols of atoning grace 
An office key, a pick-lock to the place, 
That infidels may prove their title good 
By an oath dipp'd in sacramental blood ? — 
A blot that will be still a blot, in spite 
Of all that grave apologists may write ; 
And though a bishop toil to cleanse the stain, 
He wipes and scours the silver cup in vain." 

C^sar Borgia, a natural son of Pope Alexander VI., 
was a man of such conduct and character, that Machiavel 
has thought fit to propose him, in his famous book called 
'*' The Prince," as an original and pattern to all princes, 
who would act the part of wise and politic tyrants. He 
was made a cardinal ; but as this office imposed some re- 
straints upon him, he soon determined to resign it. 

The reflections he made a short time before his death, 
(which happened in the year 1507,) show, however, that 
his policy was confined to the concerns of this life, and 
that he had not acted upon that wise and enlarged view 
of things, which becomes a being destined for immor- 
tality. " I had provided," said he, " in the course of 
my life, for everything except death • and now, alas ! I 
am to die, although entirely unprepared." 



4. HUGO GROTIUS. 

Hugo Grotius Avas born in Holland, in the year 1583. 
He possessed the most happy disposition, a profound 
genius, a solid judgment, and a wonderful memory. 
These extraordinary natural endowments had all the 



438 DEATH-BED SCENES. iPART I. 

advantages that education could give them ; and he was 
so happy as to find, in his own father, a pious and an able 
instructor, who formed his mind and his morals. Before 
he was fifteen, he maintained public theses in mathe- 
matics, philosophy, and law, with the highest applause ; 
and he ventured to form plans that required very great 
learning, but which he executed in so finished a manner, 
that the republic of letters were struck with astonish- 
ment. 

Yet after all his attainments, reputation, and labour, 
in the cause of learning, he was constrained at last to 
cry out : " Ah ! I have consumed my life in a laborious 
doing of nothing ! I would give all my learning and 
honour for the plain integrity of John Urick !" 

This John Urick was a religious poor man, who spent 
eight hours of the day in prayer, eight in labour, and but 
eight in meals, sleep, and other necessaries. 

Grotius had devoted too much of his time to worldly 
company, secular business, and learned trifles — too little 
to the exercises of the closet. This is forsaking the foun- 
tain of living waters, and hewing out to ourselves broken 
cisterns that can hold no water. 



5. SIR JOHN MASON. 

A strong testimony to the importance of religion, is 
given by Sir John Mason, who. though but sixty- three 
years old at his death, had flourished in the reign of 
four sovereigns, (Henry VIII., Edward VI., Mary, and 
Elizabeth,) had been privy-counsellor to them all, and 
an attentive observer of the various revolutions and 
vicissitudes of those times. Towards his latter end, 
being on his death-bed, he spoke thus to those about 
him : — 

"I have lived to see five sovereigns, and have been 



SEC. VI.] WORLDLY-MINDED PROFESSORS. 439 

privy- counsellor to four of them. I have seen the most 
remarkable things in foreign parts, and have been pre- 
sent at most state transactions for the last thirty years; 
and I have learned, from the experience of so many 
years, that seriousness is the greatest wisdom, temper- 
ance the best physic, and a good conscience the best 
estate. And were I to live again, I would change the 
court for a cloister, my privy- counsellor's bustle for a 
hermit's retirement, and the whole life I have lived in 
the palace, for an hour's enjoyment of God in the chapel. 
All things now forsake me, except my God, my duty, 
and my prayers." 

From the regret expressed by Sir John Mason, it ap- 
pears that his error consisted, not in having served his 
king and country, in the eminent stations in which he 
had been placed, but in having suffered his mind to be 
so much occupied with business, as to make him neglect, 
in some degree, the proper seasons of religious retire- 
ment, and the prime duties which he owed to his 
Creator. 



6. SALMASIUS. 

Salmasius, of an ancient and noble family in France, 
was born in the year 1596. He was a man of very ex- 
traordinary abilities, and profound erudition. He was 
knowing in almost everything—in school divinity, in 
law, in philosophy, in criticism ; and he was so consum- 
mate a linguist, that there was scarcely a language in 
which he had not attained a considerable proficiency. 
He was perfect in Greek and Latin, he understood the 
Hebrew, Arabic, Persic, Egyptian, Chinese, &c, and he 
was well acquainted with all the European languages. 

His works are very numerous, and on various sub- 
jects. They gained him as much fame as strong powers 



440 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

and vast erudition can procure. His name was sounded 
throughout Europe, and he had great offers from foreign 
princes and universities. The Venetians thought his 
residence among them would be such an honour, that 
they offered him a prodigious stipend; the university of 
Oxford made some attempts to get him into England ; 
and the pope invited him to settle at Rome. Cardinal 
Richelieu used all possible means to detain him in 
France, even desiring him to make his own terms ; and 
Christina, queen of Sweden, showed him extraordinary 
marks of esteem and regard. 

When this celebrated man arrived at the evening of 
life, and found leisure to reflect seriously on the great 
end of his being, he acknowledged that he had too much, 
and too earnestly, engaged in literary pursuits, and had 
greatly overlooked those objects in which true and solid 
happiness consists. " !" said he, " I have lost an im- 
mense portion of time — time, that most precious thing 
in the world 1 Had I but one year more, it should be 
spent in studying David's psalms and Paul's epistles." 

" ! sirs," said he to those about him, " mind the 
world less, and God more. ' The fear of the Lord, that 
is wisdom; and to depart from, evil, that is under- 
standing.' " 



7. POPE EUGEHTIUS. 

" how self-fetter' d was my grovelling soul ! 
Till darken'd reason lay quite clouded o'er, 
With soft conceit of endless comfort here, 
Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies." — Young. 

Gabriel Condelmerius was raised to the Papal throne 
in the year 1431, and took the name of Eugenius IV. 
From a low condition of life, and through various grada- 
tions of office, he ascended to this dignity, Being much 



SEC. VI.] WORLDLY-MINDED PROFESSORS. 441 

averse to a reformation of doctrine and manners, he met 
with great opposition from some of the clergy ; but being 
of a determined spirit, he encountered every danger, 
rather than yield to his opponents. He was often re- 
duced to painful and mortifying situations, and experi- 
enced so many vicissitudes of life, that he had ample 
proof of the vanity and instability of human greatness. 

The reflection he is said to have made on his death- 
bed is remarkable, and shows that, in his greatest eleva- 
tion, he did not find that peace and true enjoyment of 
mind which he had possessed in an humble and retired 
situation. Being attended by a company of monks, he 
turned his face towards them, and said, with a voice 
interrupted by sighs : " Gabriel ! how much better 
would it have been for thee, and how much more would 
it have promoted thy soul's welfare, if thou hadst never 
been raised to the pontificate, but been content to lead 
a quiet and religious life in thy monastery ?" 



8. CARDINAL BEAUFORT. 

Cardinal Beaufort was of royal extraction, the son 
of John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster; and was com- 
monly called the rich cardinal of Winchester. It is 
generally believed that he concerted the death of Hum- 
phrey, duke of Gloucester, which was attributed to poison. 
History informs us, that he prevailed with the king, to 
grant him letters of pardon for all offences contrary to 
the statutes then enacted in England. 

The wise son of SSirach exclaims, " death, how bit- 
ter is the remembrance of thee, to a man who is at ease 
in his possessions !" Of the truth of this sentiment, we 
have a remarkable proof in the last moments of this am- 
bitious cardinal, When he was arrested in the midst of 
his career, and the terrors of death were marshalled in 

19* 



442 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

horrid array before him, he thus complained, and vented 
his afflicted soul to his weeping friends around him : — 

" And must I then die ? Will not all my riches save 
me ? I could purchase the kingdom, if that would pro- 
long my life. Alas ! there is no bribing death. When 
my nephew, the duke of Bedford, died, I thought my 
happiness and my authority greatly increased ; but the 
duke of Gloucester's death raised me in fancy to a level 
with kings, and I thought of nothing but accumulating 
still greater wealth, to enable me, at length, to purchase 
the triple crown. Alas ! how are my hopes disap- 
pointed ! Wherefore, my friends ! let me earnestly 
beseech you to pray for me, and recommend my de- 
parting soul to God." 

Thus died this unhappy cardinal, in the year 1447. 



9. DR. JOHNSON. 

Dr Johnson was a serious believer in Jesus Christ for 
many years. Mixing, however, too much with men of 
no religion, his mind was kept barren of spiritual con- 
solation, and he was grievously haunted with the fear of 
death through his whole life. " The approach of death," 
said he to a friend, " is very dreadful. I am afraid to 
think on that which I know I cannot avoid. It is vain 
to look round and round for that help which cannot be 
had. Yet we hope and hope, and fancy that he who has 
lived to-day may live to-morrow." 

To another friend he said, " he never had a moment 
in which death was not terrible to him." On another 
occasion he declared in company at Oxford, "I am 
afraid I shall be one of those who shall be damned — sent 
to hell, and punished everlastingly." 

When he, however, actually approached dissolution, 
" all his fears were calmed and absorbed by the prevalence 



SEC. VI.] WORLDLY-MINDED PROFESSORS. 443 

of his faith, and his trust in the merits and propitiation 
of Jesus Christ." He was full of resignation, strong in 
faith, joyful in hope of his own salvation, and anxious 
for the salvation of his friends. He particularly ex- 
horted Sir Joshua Reynolds, on his dying bed, " to read 
the Bible, and to keep holy the Sabbath-day." 



10. A DYING NOBLEMAN. 

" On my grassy grave 
The men of future times will careless tread, 
And read my name on sculptured stone ; 
Nor will the sound, familiar to their ears, 
Recall my vanish' d memory. I did hope 
For better things ! — I hoped I should not leave 
The earth without a vestige ; — Fate decrees 
It shall be otherwise." — Kirke White. 

The following letter, written by a nobleman upon his 
death- bed to an intimate companion, is a deeply affect- 
ing and mornful commentary upon the consequences of 
the neglect of religion and a prevailing spirit of worldli- 
ness. In this letter, he says : — 

" Before you receive this, my final state will be deter- 
mined by the Judge of all the earth. In a few days at 
most, perhaps in a few hours, the inevitable sentence 
will be passed that shall raise me to the heights of happi- 
ness, or sink me to the depths of misery. While you 
read these lines, I shall be either groaning under the 
agonies of absolute despair, or triumphing in fulness of 

" It is impossible for me to express the present dis- 
position of my soul — the vast uncertainty I am strug- 
gling with ! No words can paint the force and vivacity 
of my apprehensions. Every doubt wears the face of 
horror, and would perfectly overwhelm me, but for some 
faint beams of hope, which dart across the tremendous 



444 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

gloom ! What tongue can utter the anguish of a soul 
suspended between the extremes of infinite joy and eter- 
nal misery ? I am throwing my last stake for eternity, 
and tremble and shudder for the important event. 

"Good God! how have I employed myself! What en- 
chantment hath held me ? In what delirium hath my 
life been passed ? What have I been doing, while the 
sun in its race, and the stars in their courses, have lent 
their beams, perhaps, only to light me to perdition. 

" I never awakened till now. 1 have but just com- 
menced the dignity of a rational being. Till this instant 
I had a wrong apprehension of everything in nature. I 
have pursued shadows, and entertained myself with 
dreams. I have been treasuring up dust, and sporting 
myself with the wind. I look back on my past life, and 
but for some memorials of guilt and infamy, it is all a 
blank — a perfect vacancy ! I might have grazed with 
the beasts of the field, or sung with the winged inhabi- 
tants in the woods to much better purpose, than any for 
which I have lived. And ! but for some faint hope, a 
thousand times more blessed had I been to have slept 
with the clods of the valley, and never heard the Al- 
mighty's fiat, nor waked into life at his command! 

" I never had a just apprehension of the solemnity of 
the part I am to act till now. I have often met death 
insulting on the hostile plain, and, with a stupid boast, 
defied his terrors ; with a courage, as brutal as that of 
the warlike horse, I have rushed into the battle, laughed 
at the glittering spear, and rejoiced at the sound of the 
trumpet, nor had a thought of any state beyond the 
grave, nor the great tribunal to which I must have been 
summoned ; 

"Where all my secret guilt had been revealM, 
Nor the minutest circumstance conceal'd. 

" It is this which arms death with all its terrors ; else 



SEC. VI.] WORLDLY-MINDED PROFESSORS. 445 

I could still mock at fear, and smile in the face of the 
gloomy monarch. It is not giving up my breath ; it is 
not being forever insensible, is the thought at which I 
shrink ; it is the terrible hereafter, the something beyond 
the grave, at which I recoil. Those great realities, which, 
in the hours of mirth and vanity, I have treated as phan- 
toms, as the idle dreams of superstitious beings ; these 
start forth, and dare me now in their most terrible de- 
monstrations. My awakened conscience feels some- 
thing of that eternal vengeance I have often defied. 

" To what heights of madness is it possible for human 
nature to reach ? What extravagance is it to jest with 
death ! to laugh at damnation ! to sport with eternal 
chains, and recreate a jovial fancy with the scenes of 
infernal misery ! 

" Were there no impiety in this kind of mirth, it would 
be as ill-bred as to entertain a dying friend with the 
sight of a harlequin, or the rehearsal of a farce. Every 
thing in nature seems to reproach this levity in human 
creatures. The whole creation, man excepted, is seri- 
ous — man, who has the highest reason to be so, while he 
has affairs of infinite consequence depending on this 
short uncertain duration. A condemned wretch may, 
with as good a grace, go dancing to his execution, as the 
greatest part of mankind go on with such a thoughtless 
gayety to their graves. 

" ! my friend, with what horror do I recall those 
hours of vanity we have wasted together ! Return, ye 
lost neglected moments ! How should I prize you above 
the eastern treasures ! Let me dwell with hermits, let 
me rest on the cold earth, let me converse in cottages, 
may I but once more stand a candidate for an immortal 
crown, and have my probation for celestial happiness. 

" Ye vain grandeurs of a court ! Ye sounding titles, 
and perishing riches ! what do ye now signify ? What 
consolation, what relief can ye give me? I have a 



446 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART I. 

splendid passage to the grave ; I die in state, and lan- 
guish under a gilded canopy ; I am expiring on soft and 
downy pillows, and am respectfully attended by my ser- 
vants and physicians ; my dependents sigh, my sisters 
weep ; my father bends beneath a load of years and 
grief; my lovely w T ife, pale and silent, conceals her in- 
ward anguish ; my friend, who was as my own soul, sup- 
presses his sighs, and leaves me to hide his secret grief. 
But, ! which of these will answer my summons at the 
high tribunal ? Which of them will bail me from the 
arrest of death ? Who will descend into the dark prison 
of the grave for me ? 

" Here they all leave me, after having paid a few idle 
ceremonies to the breathless clay, which perhaps may lie 
reposed in state, while my soul, my only conscious part, 
may stand trembling before my Judge. 

" My afflicted friends, it is very probable, with great 
solemnity will lay the senseless corpse in a stately 
monument, inscribed with, 

Here lies the great 

But could the pale carcass speak, it would soon reply, 

False marble, where ? 

Nothing but poor and sordid dust lies here. 

While some flattering panegyric is pronounced at my 
interment, I may perhaps be hearing my just condemna- 
tion at a superior tribunal, where an unerring verdict 
may sentence me to everlasting infamy. But I cast 
myself on his absolute mercy, through the infinite merits 
of the Redeemer of lost mankind. Adieu, till we meet 
in the world of spirits." 



DYING WITHOUT RELIGION. 



DYING WITHOUT RELIGION. 



SECTION I. 

1. LOUIS XV., OF FRANCE. 

•* Tell -what lesson may be read 
Beside a sinner's restless bed." 

The closing scenes of the life of Louis XV., altogether 
one of the most depraved and sensual of the monarchs 
who ever occupied the throne of France, were full of 
horror. Vice, in all the forms which it could assume, 
had entered into the systematic depravity of his un- 
licensed pleasures. His disgusting depravity exposed 
him to the small-pox, then the dread of all society. 
Though flattered for a time into the belief that there was 
no danger, he was at length undeceived ; but owing to the 
prevalence of court-intrigue, it was at the latest possible 
moment Surrounded by all the guilty minions of his 
corrupted court, he, who had not forgotten the lessons 
of virtue and religion taught by Massillon in his early 
career, felt himself unprepared to die. He caused his 
guilty companions to be sent away, telling them that he 
would recall them should he recover from his disorder. 
Just before dismissing one of the most degraded among 
them, he said, " May God grant that my disorder may 
not be dangerous ; however, it may become so if it is as 
yet harmless, and I would fain die as a believer, and not 
as an infidel. 1 have been a great sinner, doubtless ; 
but I have ever observed Lent with a most scrupulous 



450 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

exactitude ; I have caused more than a hundred thou- 
sand masses to be said for the repose of unhappy souls ; 
I have respected the clergy, and punished the authors 
of all impious works, so that 1 flatter myself I have not 
been a very bad Christian. " 

This effort at self-deception did not however succeed ; 
and when the disorder advanced a little further, the dying 
king ordered a public proclamation to be made before the 
court of his repentance for his past scandals, and his 
desire, if spared, to amend his life. Even yet conscience 
was not satisfied. His agony and anguish were extreme ; 
and amidst the utmost virulence of his fatal disorder — 
deserted by most of his courtiers, who fled in terror 
from the dread infection — with none to soothe his dying 
pillow, and no hope in which to die — occupied, when 
reason was awake, by uttering, in broken sentences, the 
religious horror of which he was the subject, — this licen- 
tious and most unhappy king expired. 



2. A DYING FOLLOWER OF THE WORLD. 

"In that dread moment, how the frantic soul 
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, 
Runs to each avenue, aud shrieks for help. 
How wishfully she looks on all she 's leaving, 
Now no longer hers. A little longer ! 
Yet a little longer ! — might she stay, 
To wash away her crimes, and fit her 
For the passage ! Her very eyes weep blood ; 
And every groan she heaves, is big with horror ; 
But the foe, like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose, 
Pursues her close, through every lane of life ; 
Nor misses once the track, but presses on, 
Till forced, at last, to the tremendous verge, 
At once she sinks to everlasting ruin." — Blaif*. 

The following affecting account of the dying hours of a 
man of gayety and pleasure, was given by Mr. Hervey, 
in a letter to that son of dissipation, sin, and folly, the 



SEC. L] THE DYING SINNER. 451 

late Beau Nash, of Bath. It was designed as a friendly 
warning to him, to prepare to meet his God, though it 
is to be apprehended the warning was in vain. 

" I was, not long since, called to visit a poor gentle- 
man, erewhile of the most robust body and the gayest 
temper I ever knew. But when I visited him, ! how 
was the glory departed from him ! I found him no more 
that sprightly and vivacious son of joy which he used to 
be ; but languishing, pining away, and withering under 
the chastening hand of God. His limbs feeble and 
trembling, his countenance forlorn and ghastly, and the 
little breath he had left, sobbed out in sorrowful sighs ! 
His body hastening apace to the dust to lodge in the 
silent grave, the land of darkness and desolation. His 
soul just going to God who gave it ; preparing to wing 
itself away unto its long home, to enter upon an un- 
changeable and eternal state. When I was come up into 
his chamber, and had seated myself on his bed, he first 
cast a most wishful look upon me, and then began, as 
well as he was able, to speak. ' that I had been wise, 
that I had known this, that I had considered my latter 

end ! Ah ! Mr. , death is knocking at my doors ; 

in a few hours more I shall draw my last gasp, and then 
judgment, the tremendous judgment ! How shall 1 ap- 
pear, unprepared as I am, before the all-knowing and 
omnipotent God ? How shall I endure the day of his 
coming ?' When I mentioned, among many other things, 
that strict holiness which he had formerly so slightly es- 
teemed, he replied with a hasty eagerness : ' ! that 
holiness is the only thing I now long for. I have not 
words to tell you how highly I value it. 1 would gladly 
part with all my estate, large as it is, or a world, to 
obtain it. Now my benighted eyes are enlightened, 1 
clearly discern the things that are excellent. What is 
there in the place whither I am going but God ? Or 
what is there to be desired on earth but religion?' 



452 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

" ' But if this God should restore you to health', said I, 
' think you that you should alter your former course V 

" ' I call heaven and earth to witness/ said he, ' 1 would 
labour for holiness, as I shall soon labour for life. As 
for riches and pleasures, and the applauses of men, I ac- 
count them as dross and dung, no more to my happiness 
than the feathers that lie on the floor. ! if the righte- 
ous Judge would try me once more; if he would but 
reprieve, and spare me a little longer, in what a spirit 
would I spend the remainder of my days! I would 
know no other business, aim at no other end, than per- 
fecting myself in holiness. Whatever contributed to 
that — every means of grace, every opportunity of spiritual 
improvement — should be dearer to me than thousands of 
gold and silver. But alas ! why do I amuse myself with 
fond imaginations ? The best resolutions are now insig- 
nificant, because they are too late. The day in which I 
should have worked is over and gone, and I see a sad, 
horrible night approaching, bringing with it the black- 
ness of darkness forever. Heretofore, — wo is me ! — when 
God called I refused ; when he invited, I was one of them 
that made excuse. Now, therefore, I receive the reward 
of my deeds ; fearfulness and trembling are come upon 
me, I smart, and am in sore anguish already ; and yet 
this is but the beginning of sorrows ! It doth not yet 
appear what I shall be ; but surely I shall be ruined, 
undone, and destroyed with an everlasting destruc- 
tion !' 

" This sad scene 1 saw with mine eyes ; these words, 
and many more equally affecting, I heard with mine ears ; 
and soon after attended the unhappy gentleman to his 
tomb.'' 



SEC. I.] THE DYING SINNER. 453 



3. LORD CHESTERFIELD. 

" One arrow more, 
The sharpest of the Almighty's store, 
Trembles upon the string — a sinner's death !" — Keble. 

Of all the accounts which are left us, of the latter end 
of those who are gone before into the eternal state, 
several are more horrible, but few so affecting as that 
which is given us by his own pen, of the late Lord 
Chesterfield. It shows us incontestably, what a poor 
creature man is, notwithstanding the highest polish 
which he is capable of receiving, without the knowledge 
and experience of those satisfactions which true religion 
yields ; and what egregious fools all those persons are, 
who squander away their precious time, in what the 
world, by a strange perversion of language, calls plea- 
sure. 

" I have enjoyed all the pleasures of this world, and 
consequently know their futility, and do not regret their 
loss. I appraise them at their real value, which, in truth, 
is very low ; whereas those who have not experienced 
always overrate them. They only see their gay outside, 
and are dazzled with their glare ; but I have been behind 
the scenes. It is a common notion, and like many com- 
mon ones, a very false one, that those who have led a 
life of pleasure and business can never be easy in re- 
tirement ; whereas 1 am persuaded that they are.the only 
people who can, if they have any sense and reflection. 
They can look back without an evil eye upon what they 
from knowledge despise; others have always a hanker- 
ing after what they are not acquainted with. I look 
upon all that has passed, as one of those romantic 
dreams that opium commonly occasions ; and I do by no 
means desire to repeat the nauseous dose, for the sake 



454 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II, 

of the fugitive dream. When I say that I have no re- 
gret, I do not mean that I have no remorse ; for a life 
either of business, or still more of pleasure, never was 
and never will be a state of innocence. But God, who 
knows the strength of human passions and the weakness 
of human reason, will, it is to be hoped, rather merci- 
fully pardon, than justly punish acknowledged errors. 
I have been as wicked and as vain, though not as wise 
as Solomon, but am now at last wise enough to feel and 
attest the truth of his reflection, that all is vanity and 
vexation of spirit. This truth is never sufficiently dis- 
covered or felt by mere speculation ; experience in this 
case is necessary for conviction, though p-erhaps at the 
expense of some morality. 

" My health is always bad, though sometimes better 
and sometimes worse ; and my deafness deprives me of 
the comforts of society, which other people have in their 
illnesses. This, you must allow, is an unfortunate latter 
end of life, and consequently a tiresome one ; but I must 
own, too, that it is a sort of balance to the tumultuous 
and imaginary pleasures of the former part of it. I con- 
sider my present wretched old age as a just compensa- 
tion for the follies, not to say sins, of my youth. At 
the same time I am thankful that I feel none of those 
torturing ills which frequently attend the last stage of 
life, and I flatter myself that I shall go off quietly, and with 
resignation. My stay in this world cannot be long; 
God, who placed me here, only knows when he will 
order me out of it ; but whenever he does, I shall will- 
ingly obey his command. 1 wait for it, imploring the 
mercy of my Creator, and deprecating his justice. The 
best of us must trust to the former and dread the latter. 
I think I am not afraid of my journey's end, but will not 
answer for myself when the object draws very near, and 
is very sure. For when one does see death near, let 
the best or the worst people say what they please, it 



SEC. I.] THE DYING SINNER. 455 

is a serious consideration. The Divine attribute of 
mercy, which gives us comfort, cannot make us forget 
the attribute of justice, which must blend some fears 
with our hope. Life is neither a burden nor a pleasure 
to me ; but a certain degree of ennui necessarily attends 
that neutral state, which makes me very willing to part 
w T ith it, when He who placed me here thinks fit to call 
me away. When 1 reflect, however, upon the poor re- 
mainder of my life, I look upon it as a burden that must 
every day grow heavier, from the natural progression of 
physical ills, the usual companions of increasing years, 
and my reason tells me that I should wish for the end 
of it; but instinct, often stronger than reason, and 
perhaps oftener in the right, makes me take all pro- 
per methods to put it off. This innate sentiment 
alone makes me bear life with patience; fori assure 
you I have no further hopes, but, on the contrary, 
many fears from it. None of the primitive Ancho- 
rets in the Thebais could be more detached from 
life than I am. I consider it as one who is wholly 
unQoncerned in it ; and even when I reflect upon what 1 
have seen, what I have heard, and what I have done 
myself, I can hardly persuade myself that all the 
frivolous hurry and bustle, and pleasures of the world, 
had any reality, but they seem to have been the dreams 
of restless nights. This philosophy, however, I thank 
God, neither makes me sour nor melancholic ; I see the 
folly and absurdity of mankind without indignation or 
peevishness. I wish them wiser, and, consequently, bet- 
ter than they are." 

This is the life, these are the mortifying acknow- 
ledgments, and this is the poor sneaking end of the 
best bred man. of the age! Not one word about a 
Mediator! He acknowledges, indeed, his frailties, but 
yet in such a way as to extenuate his offences. One 
would suppose him to have been an old heathen philoso- 



456 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

pher, that had never heard of the name of Jesus, rather 
than a penitent Christian, whose life had abounded with 
a variety of vices. 



4. PHILIP III., KING OF SPAIN. 

" Now naught of firmness, naught of rest remains, 
Since death to fear unfolds eternal pains." 

Philip the Thihd was born in the year 1577, and 
succeeded to the crown of Spain in the twenty-first year 
of his age. Of an inactive disposition, and averse to 
the trouble of governing a great kingdom, he committed 
the whole administration of affairs to his minister and 
favourite ; and this was the source of many calamities to 
hi3 subjects, and of perplexity and distress to himself. 

When this king drew near the end of his days, he de- 
sired, as the last action of his life, fco see and to bless 
his children. He told the prince, his successor, he had 
sent for him, "that he might behold the vanity of 
crowns and tiaras, and learn to prepare for eternity." 
He kindly addressed all his children, gave them his 
blessing, and dismissed them with fervent prayers for 
their happiness, both here and hereafter. 

During the progress of his disorder, he appeared to be 
greatly disturbed in mind. He made repeated confes- 
sions of his sins, and implored Divine mercy. He said 
to those around him, that he had often been guilty of 
dissimulation in matters of government. He deeply re- 
gretted his indolence, and blamed himself much for hav- 
ing devolved the cares of the state on his ministers. 
When he reflected, that he had not in all things made 
the will of God the rule of his government, he trembled, 
crying out, at different times : " ! if it should please 
Heaven to prolong my life, how different from the past 
should be my future conduct !" The affecting expres- 



SEC. L] THE DYING SINNER. 457 

sions of his repentance and devotion, drew tears from 
the eyes of those who surrounded him. The priest who 
attended him, unwilling to bruise a broken reed, endea- 
voured to cheer and compose his troubled mind, by con- 
solatory views of the Divine mercy, and the assurances 
which the Gospel affords, of assistance to the weak, and 
of pardon to the penitent. At length, the alternate tu- 
mult of hope and fear, which had so greatly agitated his 
mind, subsided into a gentle calm, and he died peace- 
fully, in the 43d year of his life, and the twenty-third of 
his reign. 



5. TERRORS OF DEATH. 

"Kegions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 
And rest can never dwell, hope never conies 
That comes to all." — Miltox. 

The subject of this narrative was born of poor but 
honest parents, and was taught the first principles of 
religion in a Sabbath school. At the age of sixteen she 
engaged in service in her native village. At her first 
place she continued two years. In her eighteenth year 
she removed into a religious family : till then she had 
lived ignorant of the Gospel, and careless about her 
eternal state ; but during her continuance in this situa- 
tion she appeared deeply impressed with a sense of her 
sinfulness, and made an open profession of religion. In 
her nineteenth year she removed to a place much su- 
perior to the former, as it respects this world ; but alas ! 
the master of the house was a lover of pleasure more 
than a lover of God. Here religious duties were not 
only neglected, but even ridiculed. She met with no 
little persecution from her fellow- servants ; this induced 
her to neglect private prayer and other means of grace. 

20 



458 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

At length she was seldom seen at public worship. A 
Christian friend perceived her declension, by her back- 
wardness to discourse on religious subjects. She had 
previously been very forward to converse on the best 
things, but at this time was quite the reverse; yet she 
did not return back to the world without considerable 
checks of conscience. She knew that she was doing 
wrong, but became hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. 

About the twentieth year of her age, she broke a blood 
vessel. An apothecary was sent for immediately, but 
no relief could be afforded ; her appointed time was now 
arrived. On the day after the circumstance took place, 
she was visited by the person who had observed her de- 
parture from the way of life, and who states the follow- 
ing particulars of different interviews with her : — 

" On asking her how she was, she said, ' Very bad, 
very bad.' I then told her I understood there was no 
hope of her recovery, and proceeded to inquire how it 
was with her in regard to her eternal welfare. She ex- 
claimed, ' That is what I want ; my life I care not for, if 
my sins were pardoned/ I then spoke of the power and 
willingness of Christ to save lost sinners ; but she an- 
swered, 'there was no pardon for her, she had been 
such a great sinner.' I then enlarged on the precious 
promises of the Gospel, and its invitations to miserable 
sinners ; but all seemed to aggravate the feelings of her 
guilty conscience. She burst into tears, and said, ' 
that I had repented when the Spirit of God was striving 
with me ! — but now I am undone !' I then offered up a 
prayer for her ; and finding that talking to her was only 
sharpening the stings of her wounded conscience, I left 
her. I again visited her late in the evening of the same 
day. She was much weaker from the loss of blood, and 
her countenance bespoke the dreadful horror of her mind, 
which no doubt hastened her speedy dissolution. On 
asking her how she felt, she answered : ' Miserable ! 



SEC. I.] THE DYING SINNER. 459 

miserable !' I then repeated some encouraging passages 
of Scripture to backsliders, but alas ! all in vain ; her 
soul laboured under the greatest agonies. She exclaimed, 
' ! how I have been deceived ! When I was in health 
I delayed repentance from time to time ; that 1 had 
my time to live over again ! that I had obeyed the 
Gospel ! — but now I must burn in hell forever. ! I 
cannot bear it, I cannot bear it.' 

"In this manner she continued breathing out most 
horrible expressions. 

" I reminded her, that Jesus Christ would in no wise 
cast out those sinners who come to him, and that his 
blood cleanseth from all sin. She said, ' The blood of 
Christ will be the greatest torment I shall have in hell ; 
tell me no more about it.' I then left her with feelings 
not to be described. She died next morning at six 
o'clock. I inquired of the woman who attended her, if 
she continued in the same state to the last ? She said 
she was much worse after I left her, and that they durst 
not stay in the room with her. She was heard to 
exclaim several times, about an hour before her end, 
' Eternity ! Eternity ! ! to burn throughout eternity !' 
Thus died, at the age of twenty, this miserable mortal." 

In her, mournful departure she adds another to the 
many solemn proofs which we have, that eternity de- 
mands all the care of an immortal being ; and that the 
hours passed on a death-bed, are not the time for re- 
pentance. 



460 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 



6. SIR THOMAS SMITH. 

M pleasures past, what are ye now ^ 

But thorns about my bleeding brow ! — 
Spectres that hover round my brain, 
And aggravate and mock my pain." — Kieke White. 

Sir Thomas Smith was born in the year 1514, and 
received a liberal and polished education. In 1542, he 
was made king's professor of civil law, in the university 
of Cambridge, and chancellor of the diocess of Ely. He 
was several times employed by Queen Elizabeth, as her 
ambassador to the court of France, and executed the 
high office of secretary of state to that princess. His 
abilities were excellent, and his attainments uncom- 
monly great. He was a philosopher, a physician, a 
chemist, a mathematician, a linguist, an historian, and 
an architect. 

This distinguished person, a short time before his de- 
cease, was much affected by the prospect of his dissolu- 
tion, and of a future state. He sent to his friends, the 
bishops of Winchester and Worcester, and entreated 
them to state to him, from the Holy Scriptures, the 
plainest and surest way of making his peace with God ; 
adding, "It is lamentable, that men consider not for 
what end they are born into the world, till they are ready 
to go out of it." 



SEC. L] THE DYING SINNER. 461 



7. DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 

" In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung, • 
With floor of plaster, and with walls of dung — 
Great Villiers lies. Alas ! how changed from him, 
That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim ! — 
No wit to flatter left of all his store ! 
No fool to laugh at, which he valued more ! 
There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, 
And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends." — Pope. 

George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, was a pre- 
tended atheist, and one of the most distinguished per- 
sons at the court of Charles the Second. Pleasure was 
his idol, and he pursued the paths of sin and folly till 
poverty and ruin overtook him. Not long before his 
death, he wrote the following letter to Dr. Barrow, whom 
he appears to have highly esteemed : — 

" I always looked upon you as a man of true virtue, 
and know you to be a person of sound judgment. For, 
however I may act in opposition to the principles of re- 
ligion or the dictates of reason, I can honestly assure 
you I had always the highest veneration for both. The 
world and I may shake hands, for I dare affirm we are 
heartily weary of each other. doctor, what a prodigal 
have I been of the most valuable of all possessions — 
time ! I have squandered it away with a persuasion it 
was lasting ; and now, when a few days would be worth 
a hecatomb of worlds, I cannot flatter myself with a 
prospect of half a dozen hours. 

" How despicable is that man who never prays to his 
God but in the time of his distress ! In what manner can 
he supplicate that omnipotent Being in his affliction, 
with reverence, whom, in the tide of his prosperity, he 
never remembered with dread ? Do not brand me with 
infidelity, when I tell you I am almost ashamed to offer 



462 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

up my petitions to the throne of grace ; or of imploring 
that Divine mercy in the next world, which I have so 
scandalously abused in this. Shall ingratitude to man 
be looked on as the blackest of crimes, and not ingrati- 
tude to God ? Shall an insult offered to the king be 
looked on in the most offensive light, and yet no notice 
taken when the King of kings is treated with indignity 
and disrespect ? 

" The companions of my former libertinism would 
scarce believe their eyes were you to show them this 
epistle. They would laugh at me as a dreaming en- 
thusiast, or pity me as a timorous wretch, who was 
shocked at the appearance of futurity. They are more 
entitled to my pity than my resentment. A future state 
may very w T ell strike terror into any man who has not 
acted well in this life ; and he must have an uncommon 
share of courage indeed who does not shrink at the pre- 
sence of his God. 

" You see, my dear doctor, the apprehensions of death 
will soon bring the most profligate to a proper use of 
their understanding. I am haunted by remorse, despised 
by my acquaintance, and, I fear, forsaken by my God. 
There is nothing so dangerous, my dear doctor, as extra- 
ordinary abilities. I cannot be accused of vanity now, 
by being sensible that I was once possessed of uncom- 
mon qualifications, as I sincerely regret that I was ever 
blessed with any at all. My rank in life made these ac- 
complishments more conspicuous, and, fascinated with 
the general applause which they procured, I never con- 
sidered about the proper means by which they should 
be displayed. Hence, to purchase a smile from a block- 
head, whom I despised, I have frequently treated the 
virtuous with disrespect, and sported with the holy name 
of Heaven, to obtain a laugh from a parcel of fools, who 
were entitled to nothing but my contempt. 

" Your men of wit, my dear doctor, look on themselves 



SEC. L] THE DYING SINNER. * 463 

as discharged from the duties of religion, and confine 
the doctrines of the Gospel to people of meaner under- 
standings, and look on that man to be of a narrow 
genius who studies to be good. What a pity that the 
holy writings are not made the criterion of true judg- 
ment ! Favour me, my dear doctor, with a visit, as soon 
as possible. Writing to you gives me some ease. I am 
of opinion this is the last visit I shall ever solicit from 
you. My distemper is powerful. Come and pray for 
the departing spirit of the unhappy — Buckingham." 



8. A SCEPTICAL PHYSICIAN. 

"How richly were my noon-tide trances hung 
With gorgeous tapestries of pictured joys, 
Till at death's toll, whose restless iron tongue 
Calls for his millions at a meal, 
Starting, I woke, and found myself undone." — Young. 

There is a very affecting narrative in the confession of 
a deist at the gates of death. The gentleman in ques- 
tion was a very respectable person of the medical pro- ' 
fession in Maidenhead. He was a man of pleasure, as 
far as business would permit ; but his favourite amuse- 
ment was the card table, at which he spent much time, 
and would frequently say to Mr. Cooke, a dissenting 
minister, " I am prodigiously fond of cards." While he 
was visiting one of his patients he was suddenly taken 
ill. His conscience was alarmed. His deistical princi- 
ples, of which he had long made his boast while in health, 
gave way. He lamented his sad condition in most af- 
fecting and pitiable accents. Among other things he 
acknowledged, with unutterable distress, his neglect of 
the Lord's day, and the public worship of God. When 
he was well he could say, " he was easy without the 
Bible, he had no fears for his soul — he believed it would 



464 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

die with his body, and he was never disturbed about 
these things — he could read profane history with as 
much pleasure as another reads his Bible." But when 
he was ill, and apprehended himself to be on the brink 
of the grave, he was thrown into such unutterable agony 
as to be bereft of his reason. In the most bitter terms 
he bewailed his past folly — mourned over his lost oppor- 
tunities — declared his full purpose, if restored, of attend- 
ing to the great concerns of his soul— and solemnly 
warned his companions not to follow his example — and 
cried unto God for mercy. At length, after having lain 
for some time in a senseless state, he breathed out his 
soul with a dismal groan. 



9. A YOUNG LADY. 

" The groans of nature in this nether world, 
Which heaven has heard for ages, have an end." — Cowper. 

The late Rev. Dr. Henry, of Charleston, S. C, states, 
that an accomplished and amiable young woman, in the 

town of , had been deeply affected by a sense of her 

spiritual danger. She was the only child of a fond and 
affectionate parent. The deep depression which accom- 
panied her discovery of her state as a sinner awakened 
all the jealousies of the father. He dreaded the loss of 
that sprightliness and vivacity which constituted the 
life of his domestic circle. He was startled by the an- 
swers which his questions elicited, while he foresaw, or 
thought he foresaw, an encroachment on the hitherto un- 
broken tranquillity of a deceived heart. Efforts were 
made to remove the cause of disquietude, but they were 
such efforts as unsanctified wisdom directed. The Bible, 
at last — 0, how little may a parent know the far-reach- 
ing of the deed when he snatches the word of life from 
the hand of a child ! — the Bible and other books of 



SEC. I.] THE DYING SINNER. . 465 

religion were removed from her possession, and their 
place was supplied with works of fiction. An excursion 
of pleasure was proposed and declined. An offer of 
gayer amusement was likewise refused. Promises, 
remonstrances, and threatenings followed. But the 
father's infatuated perseverance at last brought compli- 
ance. Alas ! how little may a parent be aware that he 
is decking his offspring with the fillets of death, and 
leading them to the sacrifice like a follower of Moloch ! 

The end was accomplished. All thoughts of piety, 
and all concern for the immortal future vanished to- 
gether. But, alas ! in less than a year was the gaudy 

deception exploded. The fascinating and gay L 

M was prostrated by a fever that bade defiance to 

medical skill. The approach of death was unequivocal, 
and the countenance of every attendant fell, as if they 
had he&rd the flight of his arrow. The glazing eye was 
dim in hopelessness, and yet there seemed a something 
in its expiring rays that told reproof, and tenderness, and 
terror in the same glance. And that voice — its tone 
was still decided, but sepulchral — " My father ! last year 
1 would have sought the Bedeemer. Fa — ther, — your 
child is—" 

Eternity heard the remainder of the sentence, for it 
was not uttered in time. The wretched survivor now 
saw before him the fruit of a disorder whose seeds had 
been sown when his delighted look followed the steps of 
his idol in the maze of a dance. 0, how often, when I 
have witnessed the earthly wisdom of a parent banish- 
ing the thoughts of eternity, have I dwelt on that ex- 
pression which seemed the last reflection from a season 
of departed hope, — " Last year I would have sought the 
Bedeemer !" 

20* 






466 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 



10. « I WON'T DIE." 

" Ay, I had plann'd full many a sanguine scheme 
Of earthly happiness — romantic schemes, 
And fraught with loveliness ; and it is hard 
To feel the hand of death arrest one's steps, 
Throw a chill blight o'er one's budding hopes, 
And hurl one's soul untimely to the shades, 
Lost in the gaping gulf of blank oblivion." — Kirke White. 

The following affecting account was written in 1775, by 
a Christian minister of London, to the late Rev. Dr. 
Ryland, w T ho then resided at Northampton : — 

A young lady who w^as educated at an academy at 
Bedford, but who afterwards resided in town, became 
dangerously ill. Her father, a true Christian, procured 
for her a lodging in the neighbourhood, to try the effect 
of a change of air. Finding her disorder prevail, he 
thought it high time for her to be concerned about her 
soul, and asked her what she thought of eternity. She 
replied, " Do not talk to me about eternity. You want 
me out of the way ; but I shall live long enough to en- 
joy all that you have in the world." 

He left her. Next evening the mistress of the house 
where she was, said, " Ma'am, I think you look a good 
deal worse." 

" Worse ! I am much better. Why do you talk to 
me about death ?" 

" You certainly are worse ; do let the servant sit up 
with you to-night." 

" No, I am not about to die." 

They went to bed ; at four in the morning she awoke 
her servant, who asked, " What is amiss, ma'am ?" 

" Amiss ! I 'm dying, I 'm dying !" 

The family was called up ; the mistress coming in to 
see her, was thus addressed : " I won't die now ; I am 



SEC. 1] THE DYING SINNER. . 467 

determined I won't die, I will live." Getting worse and 
worse, she said, "I feel I must die," and in agony 
screamed out, " Lord, what must I do V* Her servant 
replied, " You must turn to the Saviour." She fell back 
oft the bed and in a moment expired. 



11. TALLEYRAND. 

" 0, beat away the busy, meddling fiend 
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul.' , — Shakspeare. 

Talleyrand was a courtier, with all his eminent 
talents. When in the last moments of his existence, 
this remarkable man received a visit from Louis Phi- 
lippe, King of the French ; though he had but a few 
moments to live, he introduced his medical attendants, 
nurses, and friends, to the king, with a formality and 
etiquette belonging to the ancien regime. 

"How do you feel?" said the king. 

" I am suffering, sire, the pangs of the damned !" 



12. JOHN NISBET. 

11 Yet do 1 feel my soul recoil within me 
As I contemplate the dim gulf of death, 
The shuddering void, the awful blank— futurity." 

Kieke White. 

John Nisbet, a lawyer of Glasgow, was a mocker of 
piety, and a drunkard. In 1681, when the martyr, the 
Rev. Donald Cargill, was on the way to the scene of his 
sufferings for Christ's cause and crown, this man cruelly 
insulted him in public. As the martyr stood in chains, 
he said to him, " Mr. Donald,"— Mr. Cargill, whom he 
thus addressed, was an aged man, his hair as white as 
snow ; he had been long the eloquent minister of the 



468 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

High Church of Glasgow, loved and revered by all good 
men, — " Mr. Donald, will you give us one word more ?" 
alluding, in mockery, to a familiar phrase which this 
eminent man of God frequently used when summing up 
his discourses. 

The martyr turned his eyes in tears of sorrow and 
regret on him, and said to him, in that deep and solemn 
tone so peculiar to him, " Mock not, lest your bands be 
made strong." He added, after a solemn pause, " That 
day is coming when you shall not have one word to say, 
though you would !" 

The historian Wodrow adds : " Not many days after 
this, the Lord was pleased to lay his hands on that bad 
man. At Glasgow, where he lived, he fell suddenly ill, 
and for three days his tongue swelled, and though he 
seemed very earnest to speak, yet he could not com- 
mand one word, and he died in great torment and seem- 
ing terror." This faithful historian, who published his 
great work in folio, " The History of the Sufferings of 
the Church," etc., in the year 1722, has added these 
words : " Some yet alive know the truth of this passage." 



13. SIR THOMAS SCOTT. 

" My hopes and fears 
Start up alarm'd and o'er life's narrow verge 
Look down — on what ? A fathomless abyss — 
A dread eternity ! how surely mine !" 

Thomas Scott, a privy councillor of James V. of Scot- 
land, was a noted persecutor of the reformers. Being 
taken suddenly ill, and finding himself dying, he cried 
out to the Roman priests who sought to comfort him, 
"Begone, you and your trumpery; until this moment I 
believed that there was neither a God nor a hell. Now 1 
know and I feel that there are both, and I am doomed to 
perdition by the just judgment of the Almighty." 



SEC. I.] THE DYING SINNER. 469 



14. WILLIAM EMMERSON. 

"Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; 
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; 
This sensible warm motion to become 
A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; 
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, 
And blown with restless violence round about 
The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst 
Of these, that lawless and incertain thoughts 
Imagine howling ! 'Tis too horrible !" — Shakspeare. 

William Emmerson was, in his day, an eminent mathe- 
matician and scholar ; but being an infidel, the fruits of 
it were profaneness, vice, and drunkenness. In his last 
days he exhibited a painful spectacle. In his paroxysms 
of the stone, he would crawl on his hands and knees, 
uttering at times broken sentences of prayer, inter- 
mingled with blasphemies and profane swearing. What 
a contrast between his death and that of Sir Isaac New- 
ton, who died of the same painful disease. In the se- 
verest paroxysms, which even forced large drops of 
sweat that ran down his face, Sir Isaac never uttered a 
complaint, or showed the least impatience. 



15. DYING WITHOUT HOPE. 

"E'en at the parting hour, the soul will wake, 
Nor like a senseless brute its unknown journey take." — Percival. 

The unhappy subject of this sketch, by her ill temper 
rendered the life of her first husband so wretched that 
he became intemperate and finally drowned himself. 
She then married a second husband, with whom she also 



470 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

lived very unhappily. Her second husband died sud- 
denly, and she was charged with having given him poi- 
son in a bowl of coffee. Of that, however, there was no 
positive testimony, and the subject was never legally in- 
vestigated. 

" Not long after the death of her last husband," says 
the narrator, " her own health began to decline ; and then 
it was that I became personally acquainted with her. 
She was very unpopular in her own neighbourhood, and 
her health had been sinking some time before she re- 
ceived much attention from those around her. Her 
mother-in-law, who took care of her, represented her 
case as being very distressing ; stating, that she was ex- 
tremely sick, and without the necessaries of life. 

" Hearing that, I ventured to call at her house to as- 
certain what was her real situation. That was the first 
time I recollect having seen her. She was propped 
up in bed, suffering severe pain, attended by cough and 
emaciation. Her abode was truly cheerless. She had 
but few comforts, and was without the means of procur- 
ing them. Her situation was made known to an influ- 
ential gentleman, who was the means of procuring a 
pension for her, in consideration of her husband's hav- 
ing been a soldier in the American revolution. Before 
I left her I made some inquiries into her state of mind 
with regard to the subject of death, and whether she 
thought she would be happy or miserable after death. 
She frankly told me she was sinking rapidly, and that 
she had no right to believe her heart had ever been 
changed, that she was without hope of happiness beyond 
the grave, and also stated that her bodily afflictions were 
light compared with the uneasiness of mind she suffered 
about her soul. I advised her to seek earnestly for the 
renewing and sanctifying operations of the Holy Spirit, 
and to cast herself entirely upon the Lord Jesus Christ, 
assuring her he never casts away any who sincerely flee 



SEC. I.] THE DYING SINNER. 471 

to him for refuge. She asked me to entreat the Lord for 
her — a request which she made of several other persons. 

"When her state of mind was made known, many 
pious persons visited her, and conversed with her upon 
the subject of religion. Some read the Scriptures to 
her, and prayed with her; others selected tracts suited 
to her case, and sent them to be read during her intervals 
from pain. Gentlemen, as well as ladies, called to see 
her, and prayed with her. She wept much and prayed 
herself, and appeared earnestly engaged. I saw her 
frequently while in that distress, and thought her deeply 
exercised. The promises of the Gospel were repeated 
to her, but she constantly insisted that ' they could not 
reach her case ;' that ' her sins were too great to be for- 
given.' She had probably been guilty of some aggra- 
vated sin, which she never confessed. 

" The sympathies of the community were all now exer- 
cised in her favour, and those who had once avoided her 
took pleasure in contributing to her comfort. She had 
been in that state of distress for many weeks, perhaps 
two months, when she ceased praying, and became a 
blasphemer. This was about three weeks before her 
death. She had been using profane language several 
days before I ventured to see her. I had read of ' Alta- 
mont ' and ' Newport/ but had never seen such a case, 
and I now determined to go, and see what human nature 
is when left to itself. Now, instead of expressing satis- 
faction at seeing me, she began to use the most profane 
language, calling for curses, not only upon me, but upon 
the Almighty himself! While I was there her mother 
offered her some coffee, but she threw it from her, and 
cried out, ' Give me some cold water, for I am going to 
hell, and I shall get none there !' Then she exclaimed, 
' I feel hell within me — 1 am suffering the torments of 
hell !' She then stretched out her arm, which was no- 
thing but skin and bone, and asked if that was not a poor 



472 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

arm to burn in hell-fire ! She appeared entirely sensi- 
ble of the sovereignty and justice of God, fully sensible 
of a future state of rewards and punishments, and that 
she was sinking down to endless woe. When reminded 
that God was willing to save all who came to him, sin- 
cerely desiring to be forgiven, she cursed God in the 
most profane manner, saying, 'he might have saved 
her if he would ;' and wished that her Maker was suffer- 
ing the torments which were awaiting her ! Some per- 
sons wished to pray with her, but she would not allow 
them. A lady attempted to read the Bible to her, but 
she cursed the Bible, and ordered her to desist ! The 
lady asked her if she was angry with her. She said, 
1 No, not with her in particular ; but she was angry with 
everybody, and angry with the Almighty!' She told 
the lady she not only hated everybody, but everybody 
hated her, and she expected when she died to be thrown 
out into the street, no one caring enough for her to have 
her interred. The lady told her such a circumstance 
should not occur where she had power to prevent it, and 
promised her that she would see her decently interred. 
She then requested that she might be buried in the 
Episcopal church-yard. After her death the lady com- 
plied with her promise, and attended the funeral. The 
man who made the coffin, our black man, the mother-in- 
law, and a little daughter of the deceased, and the lady al- 
luded to, composed the funeral procession. I called to see 
the corpse ; it was the most dreadfully distorted object I 
ever witnessed. The countenance had the same haggard 
expression it had before the soul left the body. I never 
made her but one visit after she began to use profane 
language, excepting the visit paid to her lifeless remains. 
My feelings were too much agitated to bear a repetition 
of the scene. But there were at least one hundred per- 
sons who visited her, and they can testify to the truth 
of this statement." 



SEC. I.] THE DYING SINNER. 473 



16. DYING REGRETS. 

" Bliss ! sublunary bliss ! — proud words, and vain ! 
Implicit treason to Divine decree ! 
A bold invasion of the rights of Heaven ! 
I clasp'd the phantoms, and I found them air. 
O had I weigh'd it ere my fond embrace, 
What darts of agony had miss'd my heart !" — Youtfc*. 

I WAS called upon one morning, now many years ago, 
says a minister of the Gospel, to visit a gentleman, one 
of my congregation, who was apparently in a dying state. 
Not having heard of his illness before, but knowing his 
previous history, I felt startled and greatly distressed; 
for he was one who had trilled with religious convictions, 
and had so far stifled them as greatly to abandon his re- 
ligious connexions, satisfying his conscience by attend- 
ing one service on the Sabbath, frequently absenting 
himself altogether, and seeking, in worldly associations 
and amusements, to silence the voice within, and bury 
in oblivion the remembrance of past religious impres- 
sions. On entering his dying chamber, with a look of 
unutterable anguish he exclaimed, " 0, sir ! I am lost ! 
Your very presence condemns me ! The sermons you 
have preached, your faithful warnings from the pulpit, 
your private expostulations, all condemn me ! 0, sir ! 
what is to become of my soul — my poor neglected soul ? 
I have just been told that I cannot live ! My hours are 
numbered ! I have no pain now, but that is the precur- 
sor of death,'' (he was dying of inflammation in the 
bowels,) " and I shall soon be in eternity ! 0, stifled 
convictions — neglected Bible — misimproved Sabbaths — 
how will you rise up in judgment to condemn me ! 0, 
sir, what will become of me !" I endeavoured to calm 
his mind, and told him he must not add unbelief to the 
catalogue of his sins ; that the Gospel was a revelation 



474 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

of mercy ; that the blood of Christ cleanseth from all 
sin ; that whosoever cometh unto him, he will in no wise 
cast out ; that he is able to save to the uttermost all that 
come unto him. 

" Uttermost !" the dying man exclaimed, "uttermost! 
Then there is a gleam of hope, even for me, if I had 
time ! but, even now, I feel that stage approaching which 
will absorb my faculties, and terminate my sad life. 
what would 1 give for one week ! — one day ! 0, precious 
time ! how have I wasted it ! 0, my dear pastor, pity 
me ! pray for me ! My thoughts grow confused, I can- 
not pray myself." I then knelt down and prayed with 
him, in which he most fervently joined, summoning all 
his strength to keep awake. I shall never forget the 
grasp of his hand, when I alluded to the fulness and 
sufficiency of Divine grace. I left him with feelings 
which it is impossible to describe, and returned, accord- 
ing to my promise, in a few hours. I found him still 
sensible, but evidently sinking under the power of slum- 
ber from which he would never awake. 



17. A RICH MAN. 

" Where now my frenzy's pompous furniture ? 
The cobweb'd cottage, with its rugged wall 
Of mouldering mud, is royalty to me ! 
The spider's most attenuated thread 
Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie 
On earthly bliss : it breaks at every breeze." — Young. 

A rich man was dying, and when the physician had ex- 
hausted his skill in fruitless attempts to arrest the vio- 
lence of his disease, the sufferer asked, " Shall I never 
recover ?" 

" You are quite sick," answered the doctor, " and 
should prepare for the worst." 

" Cannot I live for a week ?" 




SEC. L] THE DYING SINNER. 475 

" No; you will probably continue but a little while." 
" Say not so," said the dying man, " I will give you a 

hundred thousand dollars if you will prolong my life 

three days." 

" 1 could not do it, my dear sir, for three hours,"said 

the doctor, and the man was dead in less than an hour. 



18. LOUISA. 
" Resolves, and re-resolves ; then dies the same." — Young. 

" Shortly after my settlement in the ministry," says 
Rev. Jacob Abbott, "I observed in the congregation a 
young lady, whose blooming countenance and cheerful 
air showed perfect health and high elation of spirits. 
Her appearance satisfied me that she was amiable and 
thoughtless. To her eye the world seemed bright, and 
she often said she wished to enjoy more of it before she 
became a Christian. Louisa (for by that name I shall 
call her) manifested no particular hostility to religion, 
but wished to live a gay and merry life till just before 
her death, and then to become pious, and die happy. 
She was a constant attendant at church ; but while others 
seemed moved by an exhibition of the Saviour's love, 
she appeared entirely unaffected. The same easy smile 
played upon her features, whether sin or death, or heaven 
or hell, was the theme of discourse. 

" One evening I invited a few of the young ladies of 
my society to meet at my house. She came with her 
companions. I had sought the interview, that I might 
more directly urge upon them the importance of religion. 
All in the room were affected, and she, though evidently 
moved, endeavoured to conceal her feelings. 

" I informed them I would meet in a week from that 
time any who wished for personal conversation ; and at 



476 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

the appointed time was delighted to see Louisa, with 
two or three others, enter my house. ' Louisa,' said I, 
' 1 am happy to see you here this evening ; particularly 
so, as you have come interested in the subject of re- 
ligion.' She made no reply. 'Have you been long 
thinking upon this subject, Louisa?' 

"'I always thought the subject important, sir; but 
have not attended to it as I suppose 1 ought.' 

" * Do you now feel the subject more important than 
you have previously ?' 

" ' I don't know, sir. 1 want to be a Christian.' 

" ' Do you feel that you are a sinner, Louisa ?' 

" ' I know I am a sinner, for the Bible says so ; but I 
suppose I do not feel it enough.' 

" - What would you think, Louisa, of a child whose 
kind and affectionate parents had done everything in 
their power to make her happy, and who, though every 
day disobeying her parents, and never manifesting any 
gratitude, should yet not feel that she had done anything 
wrong? You, Louisa, would abhor such a child; and 
yet this is the way you have been treating your heavenly 
Father. And he has heard you say this evening, that 
you do not feel that you have done wrong. You must 
repent of your sin, and humbly and earnestly ask for- 
giveness. And why will you not ? You know Christ 
has died to atone for sin, and that God will forgive, for 
his Son's sake, if you are penitent.' To this she made 
no reply. She did not appear displeased, neither did 
her feelings appear subdued. 

" At our interview on the succeeding week, Louisa 
appeared much more deeply impressed. 

" ' Well,' said I, as in turn 1 came to her, ' I was afraid 
I should not see you here this evening.' 

" ' I feel, sir,' said she, ' that it is time for me to 
attend to my immortal soul. I have neglected it too 
long.' 






SEC. L] THE DYINO SINNER. 477 

" ' Do you feel that you are a sinner, Louisa V 

" ' Yes, sir, I do.' 

" ' Do you think, Louisa, you have any claim upon 
God to forgive you ?' 

" ' No sir ; it would be just in God to leave me to 
perish, I think. I want to repent, but I cannot. I want 
to love God, but do not know how I can.' 

" ' Well, Louisa, now count the cost. Are you ready 
to give up all for Christ? Are you ready to turn from 
your gay companions, and lay aside your frivolous plea- 
sures, and acknowledge the Saviour publicly, and be de- 
rided, as perhaps you will be, by your former friends, 
and live a life of prayer and of effort to do good V 

" She hesitated a moment, and then replied, ' I am 
afraid not.' 

" ' Well, Louisa, the terms of acceptance with God are 
plain, and there is no altering them. If you will be a 
Christian, you must renounce all sin, and with a broken 
heart surrender yourself to the Saviour.' 

" The interview closed with prayer, and a similar ap- 
pointment was made for the next week. Some of the 
young ladies present, I had reason to believe, had 
accepted the terms of salvation. The next week a slight 
cold detained Louisa from the meeting, but the week 
following she again appeared. To my great disappoint- 
ment, I found her interest diminishing. She seemed 
far less anxious than at our last interview; the Spirit 
was grieved. This was the last time she called to 
see me. 

" Two or three months passed away, when one day, as 
I was making parochial visits, I was informed that Louisa 
was quite unwell, and desired to see me. In a few mo- 
ments I was in her sick- chamber. She had taken a 
violent cold, and it had settled into a fever. She seemed 
agitated when I entered the room; and when I inquired 
how she did, she covered her face with both hands, and 



478 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

burst into tears. Her sister turned to me and said : 
' Sir, she is in great distress of mind ; mental agony has 
kept her awake nearly all night. She has wanted very 
much to see you, that you might converse with her.' 

" I feared her agitation might seriously injure her 
health, and did all I consistently could to soothe and 
quiet her. ' But,' said Louisa, ' I am sick, and may die. 
I know I am not a Christian ; and, ! if I die in this 
state of mind, what will become of me V And again she 
burst into tears. 

" What could I say ? Every word she said was true. 
Her eyes were opened to her danger. There was cause 
for alarm. Delirium might soon ensue. Death might 
be near, and she was unprepared to appear before God. 
She saw it all, she felt it all. Fever was burning in her 
veins ; but she forgot her pains in view of the terrors of 
approaching judgment. 

"I told her God was good; that he was more ready 
to forgive than we to ask forgiveness. ' But, sir/ said 
she, 'I have known my duty long, and have not done it. 
I have been ashamed of the Saviour, and grieved away 
the Spirit, and now I am upon a sick-bed, and perhaps 
must die. 0, if I were but a Christian, I should be 
willing to die !' 

" I told her of the Saviour's love. I pointed to many 
of God's precious promises to the penitent. I endea- 
voured to induce her to resign her soul calmly to the 
Saviour. But all seemed in vain. Trembling and 
agitated, she was looking forward to the dark future. 
The Spirit of the Lord had opened her eyes. I knelt 
by her bed-side, and fervently prayed that the Holy 
Spirit would guide her, and that the Saviour would speak 
peace to her troubled soul. 0, could they who are post- 
poning repentance to a sick-bed, have witnessed the 
sufferings of this once merry girl, they would shudder at 
the thought of trusting to a dying hour ! 



SEC. L] THE DYING SINNER. 479 

• The next day I called again. Her fever was still 
raging, and its fires were fanned by mental suffering. 

" ' And can you not, Louisa/ said I, ' trust your soul 
with the Saviour who died for you? He has said, 
" Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, 
and I will give you rest." ' 

" ' 0, sir, I know the Saviour is merciful ; but some- 
how I cannot go to him ; I know not why. 0, I am 
miserable indeed !' 

"I opened the Bible, and read the parable of the 
Prodigal Son. I particularly directed her attention to 
the twentieth verse : ' When he was a great way off, his 
father saw him, and had compassion on him, and ran, 
and fell upon his neck, and kissed him.' ' sir,' said 
she, 'none of these promises are for me. I find no 
peace to my troubled spirit. I have long been sinning 
against God, and now he is summoning me to render up 
my account. 0, what an account have I to render ! 
Even if I were perfectly well, I could hardly endure the 
view God has given me of my sins. If they were for- 
given, how happy I should be ! but now, — ' Her voice 
was stopped by a fit of shuddering, which agitated those 
around her with the fear she might be dying. Soon, 
however, her nerves were more quiet, and I kneeled to 
commend her spirit to the Lord. 

" I rode home ; and as I kneeled with my family at 
evening prayer, I bore Louisa upon my heart to the 
throne of grace. Another morning came. As I knocked 
at the door 1 felt a painful solicitude as to the answer 1 
might receive. ' How is Louisa this morning ?' 

" 'Failing fast, sir; the doctor thinks she cannot re- 
cover.' 

" ' Is her mind more composed?' 

" ' no, sir ; she has had a dreadful night. She says 
she is lost, and that there is no hope for her.' 

" I went to her chamber. Despair was pictured more 



480 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

deeply than ever upon her countenance. A few young 
friends were standing by her bedside. She warned 
them, in the most affecting terms, to prepare for death 
while in health. She told them of the mental agony she 
was enduring, and of the heavier woes which were thickly 
scattered through that endless career on which she was 
about to enter. She said she knew God was ready to 
forgive the sincerely penitent ; but that her sorrow was 
not sorrow for sin, but dread of its awful penalty. 

" I had already said all I could say to lead her to the 
Saviour. Nothing more could be said. 

1 By many a death-bed I had been, 
And many a sinner's parting scene ; 
But never aught like this/ 

" Late in the afternoon I called again. Every eye in 
the room was filled with tears, but poor Louisa saw not, 
and heeded not their weeping. Her reason was gone. 
For some time I lingered round the solemn scene. At 
the present moment that chamber of death is as vividly 
present to my mind as it was when I looked upon it 
through irrepressible tears. I can now see the restless 
form, the swollen veins, the hectic, burning cheek, the 
eyes rolling wildly around the room, and the weeping 
friends. In silence I had entered the room, and in 
silence and sadness I turned away. 

" Early next morning I called at the door to inquire 
for Louisa. 

" ' She is dead, sir.' 

" 'Was her reason restored before her death?' 

" ' It appeared partially to return a few moments be- 
fore she breathed her last, but she was almost gone, and 
we could hardly understand what she said.' 

" ' Did she seem more peaceful in her mind?' 

" ' Her friends thought that she did express a willing- 
ness to depart ; but she was so weak, and so far gone, 



SEC. I.] THE DYING SINNER. 481 

that it was impossible for her to express her feelings 
with any clearness.' 

" This is all that can be said of one who ' wished to 
live a gay and merry life till just before death, and then 
become pious, and die happy.' Reader, 

' Be wise to-day, 'lis madness to defer/ " 



19. MADAME DE POMPADOUR. 

" Ah ! fleeting spirit ! wand'ring fire, 

That long hast warm'd my tender breast, 
Must thou no more this frame inspire — 

No more a pleasing cheerful guest ? 
Whither, ah ! whither art thou flying ? 

To what dark undiscover'd shore ? 
Thou seem'st all trembling, shiv'ring, dying ; 

And wit and humour are no more." 

Madame de Pompadour before her death became a 
victim of ennui and disgust at the world. The objects 
for which she had sacrificed honour and virtue in the 
court of Louis XV., had lost their charms, and one of 
her last letters describes, in most affecting terms, her 
abject wTetchedness. 

" What a situation," she writes, " is that of the great ! 
They only live in the future; and are only happy in hope ; 
there is no peace in ambition ! I am always gloomy, 
and often so unreasonably. The kindness of the king, 
the regards of courtiers, the attachment of my domestics, 
and the fidelity of a large number of friends — motives 
like these, which ought to make me happy, affect me no 
longer. ... I have no longer an inclination for all 
which once pleased me. I have caused my house at 
Paris to be magnificently furnished ; well, that pleased 
me for two days. My residence at Bellevue is charm- 
ing ; and I alone cannot endure it. Benevolent people 



482 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

relate to me all the news and adventures of Paris ; they 
think I listen, but, when they have done, I ask them what 
they said. In a w T ord, I do not live, I am dead before 
my time. I have no interest in the w T orld. Everything 
conspires to embitter my life. I have imputed to me 
the public misery, the misfortunes of war, and the 
triumphs of my enemies. I am accused of selling 
everything, of disposing of everything, of governing 
everything. . . . This hatred and this general ex- 
asperation of the nation grieve me exceedingly ; my life 
is a continued death. " 

Oppressed by such sentiments, she died, probably of 
a broken heart, occasioned by the sense of deserved 
public hatred. She but reaped the fruit of what she had 
sown ; affording a melancholy example of the retribution 
her conduct had merited. As a proof of the heartless- 
ness which habits of vice engender, it is related that, on 
the day of her funeral, the king, walking on the terrace 
at Versailles, and thinking, as he took out his watch, that 
it was the moment for the interment of her whom he had 
professed to love so well, said, with great unconcern, 
" The countess will have a fine day !" 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 483 

SECTION II. 

1. WILLIAM POPE. 

** Laugh, ye profane, and swell, and burst 
With bold impiety ; 
Yet shall ye live forever curst, 
And seek in vain to die. 
Soon you '11 confess the frightful names 
Of plagues you scorn' d before, 
No more shall look like idle dreams, 
Like foolish names no more." — Watts. 

The awful and affecting cases of Newport, Altamont, 
and Spira, have long confirmed the weighty truth, that 
" it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living 
God." The following narrative, though less known, is 
not less awful nor less impressive. Its truth is con- 
firmed by the joint testimony of various respectable 
witnesses. One of these is Mr. Simpson, the well- 
known author of " A Plea for Religion." He saw the 
unhappy subject of this narrative once, but declared he 
never desired to see him again. The melancholy affair 
happened in the year 1797, and excited considerable at- 
tention in the town and neighbourhood of Bolton. The 
deistical brethren of the unhappy man, whose miseries 
this account describes, wished to persuade the public 
that he was out of his mind, which was by no means the 
case. He was in the possession of his reason; but evi- 
dently given over, by God, to a hardened heart. 

William Pope, an inhabitant of Bolton, in Lanca- 
shire, was a member of the Methodist society ; and 
appeared to have been formerly a partaker of genuine 
repentance, and of such faith in the adorable Saviour, as 



484 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

became the source of sacred peace and joy. He had a 
wife, who enjoyed much of the Divine comforts of re- 
ligion, and who, after adorning her profession upon earth 
in the full assurance of faith and hope, triumphantly fell 
asleep in Jesus. 

After her death, his zeal for religion declined, and by 
associating with some backsliding professors, he entered 
the path to eternal ruin. His new companions ridiculed 
the eternity of future misery, and professed to believe 
even in the redemption of devils. William became an 
admirer of their scheme ; a frequenter with them of the 
public house; and in time, a common drunkard. On 
one occasion of this kind, being upbraided as a Metho- 
dist, he replied : "lam not a Methodist now ; it would 
be better for me were that the case — for while I was a 
Methodist I was as happy as an angel, but now I am as 
miserable as a devil." 

Religion being neglected, his mind turned to politics, 
and these became his favourite study. Proceeding on- 
ward from bad to worse, he became the disciple of 
Thomas Paine, and associated himself with a number of 
deistical persons at Bolton, who assembled together on 
Sundays, to confirm each other in their infidelity. The 
oaths and imprecations which were here uttered, are too 
horrible to relate ; while they amused themselves with 
throwing the word of God on the floor, kicking it round 
the room, and treading it under their feet. Here he 
plunged deep into the whirlpool of infidelity, and dared 
to speak contemptuously of that adorable Redeemer 
whom he had formerly called his Saviour. The mercy 
he had long abused was now withdrawn ; the judgments 
of the Most High overtook him, and a lingering con- 
sumption became the harbinger of death. 

" April 17, 1797, I was desired," says Mr. Rhodes, 
the narrator of the following account, " to visit William 
Pope. For some months he had been afflicted with a 



^ 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 485 

consumptive complaint. At the same time the state of 
his mind was deplorably wretched. When I first saw 
him, he said, ' Last night I believe I was in hell, and felt 
the horrors and torments of the damned ! But God has 
brought me back again, and given me a little longer 
respite. My mind is also alleviated a little. The gloom 
of guilty terror does not sit so heavy upon me as it did; 
and I have something like a faint hope, that, after all I 
have done, God may yet save me.' After exhorting him 
to repentance, and confidence in the Almighty Saviour, 
1 prayed with him, and left him. 

" In the evening he sent for me again. I found him 
in the utmost distress, overwhelmed with bitter anguish 
and despair. I endeavoured to encourage him, and 
mentioned the hope which he had spoken of in the morn- 
ing. He answered, ; I believe it was merely nature; 
that finding a little ease from the horrors I had felt in 
the night, I was a little lifted up on that account.' I 
spoke to him of the infinite merit of the great Redeemer ; 
of his sufficiency, willingness, and promises, to save the 
chief of sinners, who penitently turn to him. I men- 
tioned several cases in which God had saved the greatest 
of sinners ; but he answered, ; Ne case of any that have 
been mentioned, is comparable to mine. I have no con- 
trition ; I cannot repent; God will damn me! I know 
the day of grace is past. God has said of such as are 
in my case, I will laugh at your calamity, and mock 
when your fear cometh !' 

" I said, ' Have you ever known anything of the mercy 
and love of God ¥ 

"*0 yes,' he replied; "many years ago, I truly re- 
pented, and sought the Lord. At one time in particular, 
in my distress and penitential sorrow, I cried to the 
Lord with all my heart, and he heard me, and delivered 
me from all my trouble, and filled me with peace and 
heavenly consolation. This happiness continued for 



486 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

some time. I was then truly devoted to God. But in 
the end I began to keep company which was hurtful to 
me, and also gave way to unprofitable conversation, till 
I lost all the comfortable sense of God, and the things 
of God. Thus I fell from one thing to another, till I 
plunged into open wickedness.' Indeed he several times 
complained to me, that the company he associated with 
had been of irreparable injury to him. I prayed with him, 
and had great hopes of his salvation ; he appeared much 
affected, and begged I would represent his case in our so- 
ciety, and pray for him. 1 did as he desired that night in 
our congregation ; the people were much affected at the 
account, and many hearty petitions were put up for him." 

Mr. Rhodes being obliged to go into the country for a 
few days, his fellow-labourer, Mr. Barraclough, visited 
William Pope, and gave the following account of what 
he witnessed : — 

" April 18, 1 went to see William Pope : he had all the 
appearance of horror and guilt, which a soul feels when 
under a sense of the wrath of God. As soon as he saw 
me, he exclaimed, ' You are come to see one who is 
damned forever.' I answered, ' I hope not, Christ came 
to save the chief of sinners.' He replied, ' I have re- 
jected him, I have denied him ; therefore hath he cast 
me off forever ! — I know the day of grace is past— ^-gone 
— gone — never more to return !' I entreated him not to 
draw hasty conclusions respecting the will of God ; and 
I asked him if he could pray, or felt a desire that God 
would give him a broken and contrite heart ? He an- 
swered, ' I cannot pray ; my heart is quite hardened ; I 
have no desire to receive any blessing at the hands of 
God,' and then immediately cried out, ' the hell ! — the 
torment ! — the fire that I feel within me ! eternity, 
eternity! To dwell forever with devils and damned 
spirits in the burning lake, must be my portion ! — and 
that justly — yea, very justly!' 



SEC. II] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 487 

" I endeavoured to set before him the all-sufficient 
merits of Christ, and the virtue of his atoning blood ; 
assuring him, that through faith in the Redeemer he 
might be forgiven. He fixed his eyes on me, and said, 
' that I had the smallest beam of hope ! But I have 
not, nor can I ever have it again.' I requested him to 
join with me and another friend in prayer. To which 
he replied, ' It is all in vain.' However, we prayed, and 
had some degree of access to the throne of grace for him. 
When I was about to depart, he looked at me with inex- 
pressible anguish, and said : - Do you remember preach- 
ing from these words in Jeremiah, "Be instructed, 
Jerusalem, lest my soul depart from thee?" ■ I replied 
that I recollected the time very well, and asked, ' Did 
God's Spirit depart from you at that time ?' He replied, 
'No, not at that time, for I again felt him strive with 
me ; but 0, soon after I grieved, yea, I quenched him ; 
and now it is all over with me forever !' 

" On Thursday, I found him groaning under the 
weight of the displeasure of God. His eyes rolled to 
and fro; he lifted up his hands, and with vehemence 
cried out, ' the burning flame ! — the hell ! — the pain 1 
feel! Bocks, yea, burning mountains ! fall upon me, and 
cover me. ! Ah no ! they cannot hide me from his pre- 
sence who fills the universe I' I spoke a little of the 
justice and power of Jehovah ; to which he made this 
pertinent reply : ' He is just, and is now punishing, and 
will continue to punish me, for my sins. He is power- 
ful, and will make me strong to bear the torments of 
hell to all eternity !' I answered, ' God is just to forgive 
us, and powerful to rescue us from the dominion of sin 
and Satan. Jesus came to destroy the works of the 
devil, and I trust he will soon manifest his salvation to 
you.' He replied, ' You do not know what I have done. 
My crimes are not of an ordinary nature. 1 have done 
— done the deed— the horrible, damnable deed!' I 



488 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

wanted him to explain himself; but he sunk down into 
a stupid sullenness. I prayed with him, and found more 
freedom than I expected. While I was on my knees, he 
appeared to be in an agony. At length he broke out, to 
the astonishment of all present, ' Glory be to God, I am 
out of hell yet ! Glory be to God, I am out of hell yet !' 
We said, ' There is mercy for you.' He answered, ' Do 
you think so ? that I could feel a desire for it V We 
entreated him to pray, but he answered, ' 1 cannot pray ! 
God will not have anything to do with me. the fire I 
feel within me.' He then sunk down again into a state 
of sullen reserve. I prayed with him once more ; and 
while I was thus employed, he said with inexpressible 
rage, ' I will not have salvation at the hands of God ! 
No, no ! I will not ask it of him !' After a short pause, 
he cried out, ■ how I long to be in the bottomless pit — 
in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone !' He 
then lay quiet for some time, and we took our leave for 
that day. 

" The day following I saw him again. This was a 
painful visit. His language and visage were most dread- 
ful. Some of his expressions were so diabolical that I 
dare not repeat them. I said to him, ' William, your 
pain is inexpressible.' He groaned, and then with a loud 
voice cried out, ' Eternity will explain my torments ; I 
tell you again, I am damned; I will not have salvation.' , 
We desired he would pray for mercy ; but he exclaimed, 
* Nothing for me but hell ! Come, eternal torments ! 
You will soon see I shall drop into the flames of the pit.' 
I said, ' Do you ask the Lord to be merciful unto you.' 
Upon which he called me to him, as if to speak to me; 
but as soon as I came within his reach, he struck me on 
the head with all his might, and gnashing his teeth, cried 
out, ' God will not hear your prayer.' 

" While we were on our knees praying for him, he 
shouted aloud, ' God will confound you, that you cannot 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 489 

pray. God, hear them not, for I will not be saved.' 
His words were accompanied with the strongest marks 
of rage and inveterate malice, and he cried out, 'I hate 
everything that God has made ; only I have no hatred 
to the devil ; I wish to be with him.' He seemed to be 
in his element while speaking of the devil as a sovereign 
lord, that might shortly reign supreme ! These things 
greatly distressed us, and we were afraid that he was 
given up to a reprobate mind." 

On the 21st, Mr. Rhodes, having returned from the 
country, went again to see William Pope, and gives the 
following account of his visit : — 

" I found him in the most deplorable condition. He 
charged me with telling him a lie, in my last visit, by 
saying that I believed there was salvation for him. I 
replied that I had not told a lie, but verily believed there 
was salvation if he would accept of it. He was now in 
a tempest of rage and despair : his looks, his agonies, 
and dreadful words, are not to be expressed. Speaking 
to him of mercy or a Saviour, seemed to increase the 
horrors of his mind. When I mentioned the power of 
the Almighty to save; 'God,' said he, 'is almighty to 
damn me ! He hath already sealed my damnation, and 
I long to be in hell !' While two or three of us were 
praying for him, he threw at us anything on which he 
could lay his hands. His state appeared an awful con- 
firmation of the truth, justice, and being of God ; of an 
immortal soul in man • and of the evil of sin. Who but 
a righteous God could inflict such punishments ? What 
but sin could deserve them? What but an intelligent 
immortal soul could bear them ?" 

Next day, Mr. Rhodes called again to see William 
Pope. The dreadful tempest of rage and defiance seemed 
to have ceased. He now appeared full of timidity and 
fear; in perpetual dread of the powers of darkness, and 
apprehensive of their coming to drag him away to the 

21* 



490 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

regions of misery. But no marks of penitent contrition 
appeared about him. He said he was full of blasphemy ; 
he often laid his hand upon his mouth lest it should 
force its way forth. He complained that it had done so, 
and that more would force its way. 

In the afternoon of the 24th, Mr. Barraclough again 
called upon him. For some time he w r ould not speak ; 
but after being repeatedly asked how he felt his mind, 
he replied, " Bad, bad." Mr. Barraclough said, " God 
can make it better." 

" "What, make me better ! I tell you, no ; I have done 
the horrible deed, and it cannot be undone again. I feel 
I must declare to you what it is for which I am suffering. 
The Holy and Just One ! I have crucified the Son of 
God afresh, and counted the blood of the covenant an 
unholy thing ! that wicked and horrible deed of blas- 
phemy against the Holy Ghost which I know I have 
committed ! It is for this I am suffering the torture 
and horrors of guilt, and a sense of the wrath of God." 

He then suddenly looked upwards towards the cham- 
ber floor, and started back; he trembled, gnashed his 
teeth, and cried out, "Do you not see? Do you not 
see him ? He is coming for me ! The devil will fetch 
me, I know he will! Come, devil, and take me." 
At this time Mr. Eskrick came into the room, to whom 
William said, " George, 1 am lost." Mr. Eskrick re- 
plied, " Do not say so, but pray earnestly to God to give 
you true repentance ; and who can tell but the Lord may 
deliver you this day from the power of sin and Satan." 
He answered, " I cannot pray, no ! no ! I will not pray. 
Do not I tell you there is no salvation for me ? I want 
nothing but hell." Some time after he said, " Undone 
forever! Doomed to eternal pain ! to the burning flame !" 
Afterward on a sudden he sprung up from his seat, and 
cried out, " Your prayers will avail nothing. God will 
not hear you." A friend prayed ; but during prayer, 



-, 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 491 

when any petition was offered for him, he sullenly said, 
" I will not have any favour at his hands," uttering also 
other expressions too dreadful to be repeated. 

" On the 25th," says Mr. Rhodes, " I called to see 
William Pope, and asked him how he was : he answered, 
' Very bad in body and soul, there is nothing good about 
me.' I said to him, ' William, if God were willing to 
save you for Christ's sake, and if you knew that he were 
so. would you not be willing to be saved Y 

" ' No,' he answered, ' I have no willingness nor any 
desire to be saved. You will not believe me when I tell 
you it is all over. If I had a million of worlds I would 
give them all to undo what 1 have done.' 

" I told him 1 was glad to hear that confession from 
him, and hoped, that through the violence of his terrors 
he had mistaken his case, and imagined against himself 
what was not true. 'I tell you,' he replied, 'I know 
hell burns within me now ; and the moment my soul 
quits the body. 1 shall be in such torments as none can 
conceive ! I have denied the Saviour ! I have blas- 
phemed the Most High! and have said, that I were 
stronger than God.' He was quite unwilling that I 
should attempt to pray for him. I visited him the next 
morning, when he appeared to be hardened beyond all 
feeling of remorse or fear. His violent agitations, dread, 
and horror, had ceased their rage. His infidel principles 
returned upon him, and he gave full place to them, and 
gloried in them. 

" On my next visit, after a little conversation, he 
spoke with the greatest contempt of the Lord Jesus 
Christ ; and derided his merits and the virtue of his 
atoning blood. The words he used were too detestable 
to be repeated. The day following he appeared much 
in the same state of mind, full of a diabolical spirit. 
Hell and perdition were his principal theme, and appa- 
rently without terror." 



492 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

At a visit which a pious young man made him on the 
first of May, he said, " 1 have denied the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and the word of God ; this is my hell." After 
some other shocking expressions, he added, " My pain is 
all within — if this were removed I should be better ! 
what a terrible thing it is ! Once I might, and would 
not ; now I would, and must not." He sat a little while 
and then (says the narrator) cast his eyes upon me with 
the most affecting look I ever saw, and shook his head. 
At this sight I could not refrain from tears. At another 
time he said, " 1 attempted to pray, but when I had said 
a word or two, I was so confounded I could say no more." 
At this time one of his old companions in sin coming to 
see him, William said to him, "I desire you will go 
away ; for I have ruined myself by being too much in 
such company as yours." The man was unwilling to 
depart, but he insisted on his going. 

Sometime after, the same young man, and some other 
friends, sat up with him again, and would have prayed 
with him, but he would not suffer them ; he said it did 
him hurt, and added, " I am best content when I am 
cursing ; I curse frequently to myself, and it gives me 
ease. God has made a public example of me, for a 
warning to others ; and if they will not take it, everlast- 
ing misery will be their portion." 

Mr. Rhodes made him several other visits; and in all 
his visits, found him perfectly averse to prayer, and to 
everything that is good. Wot the least mark of con- 
trition; not the most distant desire for salvation. 
" When," says he, " on one occasion I attempted to 
pray, he said, ' Do not pray to Jesus Christ for me, he 
can do me no good; nor is there any being that can.' 
When I began to pray, he blasphemed in a most horri- 
ble manner, and dared the Almighty to do his worst, and 
to send him to hell !" 

" On the 24th, his state was not to be described. His 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 493 

eyes darted hate and distraction. He grinned at me, 
and told me how he despised and hated my praj T ers ; at 
the same time he exclaimed, • Curse on you all.' 

" On the 26th, I visited him for the last time. I saw 
his dissolution was at hand. My soul pitied him. My 
painful feelings on his account cannot be expressed. I 
spoke to him with tenderness and plainness about the 
state of his soul, and of another world ; but he answered 
me with a high degree of displeasure ; his countenance 
at the same time was horrible beyond expression ; and 
with great vehemence he commanded me to cease speak- 
ing to him. I then told him, it Avould be the last time 
that ever I should see him in this world ; and asked if 
he were willing for me to put up another prayer for him ? 
He then with great strength, considering his weakness, 
cried out, * No.' This was the last word which I heard 
him speak. I left him, and he died in the evening." 



2. THE MOTHER OF DAVID HUME. 

" Insidious Death ! should his strong hand arrest, 
No composition sets the prisoner free ; 
Eternity's inexorable chain 
Fast binds, and vengeance claims the full arrear." — Young. ' 

Hume, the historian, received a religious education from 
his mother, and early in life was the subject of strong 
and hopeful religious impressions ; but as he approached 
manhood they were effaced, and confirmed infidelity 
succeeded. 

Maternal partiality, however alarmed at first, came at 
length to look with less and less pain on this delusion, 
and filial love and reverence seemed to have been ab- 
sorbed in the pride of philosophical scepticism; for 
Hume applied himself with unwearied, and, unhappily, 
with successful, efforts to sap the foundation of his 



494 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

mother's faith. Having succeeded in this dreadful work, 
he went abroad, and as he was returning, an express met 
him in London with a letter from his mother, informing 
him that she was in a deep decline and could not long 
survive : she said she found herself without any support 
in her distress ; that he had taken away that only source 
of comfort upon which, in all cases of affliction, she used 
to rely, and that now she found her mind sinking into 
despair ; she did not doubt that her son would afford her 
some substitute for her religion ; and she conjured him 
to hasten to her, or at least to send her a letter contain- 
ing such consolations as philosophy could afford to a 
dying mortal. 

Hume was overwhelmed with anguish on receiving 
this letter, and hastened to Scotland, travelling day and 
night ; but before he arrived his mother expired. 

No permanent impression seems, however, to have 
been made on his mind by this trying event; and what- 
ever remorse he might have felt at the moment, he soon 
relapsed into his previous hardness of heart. Thus it is 
that false philosophy restores the sting to death, and 
gives again the victory to the grave. 



3. DEATH OF AN AGED BACKSLIDER. 

" Time destroy 'd 
Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt." — Young. 

On a bleak winter's night, in the year 1844, after having 
retired to rest, I was suddenly aroused by the repeated 
mention of my name. On hastening to discover the 
cause, I found that two Christian persons had come, 
earnestly to request me to visit an aged but dying apos- 
tate. The distance from the house of the sufferer, and 
a slight indisposition of body, at first induced me to 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 495 

refuse. " come, do come ! she is dying, and says 
that she is eternally lost !" 

Overpowered by their solicitations, and the sense of 
duty, and indulging the thought that perhaps God de- 
signed me to be the messenger of peace to the poor 
creature, I felt compelled to accompany them. The 
night was cheerless, dark, and dreary ; the sky was star- 
less ; and everything around us seemed but as the image 
of the sad scene to which we were hastening. The wind 
whistled wildly, and appeared as if it conveyed with its 
" doubled-tongued voice " the groans of the dying sinner. 
This, added to the death-like stillness of all besides, 
predisposed my mind for the chamber of sickness. As 
we approached the house, her cries of despair were dis- 
tinctly heard ; and with these ringing in my ears, I was 
ushered into her room. From the snows of time, which 
were scattered thickly over her head, and the numerous 
wrinkles on her brow, it was evident that she had long 
since passed the boundary of "threescore years and 
ten." As soon as she saw me, with a wild, fitful light 
shooting into her sunken eyes, which w x ere rolling fiercely 
in their deep sockets, and in a tone expressive of the 
awful agony of her soul, she exclaimed, in the language 
of the Gadarene demoniac, "Art thou come hither to 
torment me before the time?" 

" No," I replied, " but rather to assist you in obtain- 
ing the mercy you need." 

" Mercy ? There is none for me ! I tell you I am 
forsaken by God, ! I loved him once ; but now — " and 
an involuntary shudder shook her frame. 

" The same blessing you then enjoyed is held out to 
you now, upon the exercise of a similar faith," I replied. 

" I cannot, I dare not, I will not, believe again ; I have 
been deceived /" 

The peculiar emphasis laid on the latter part of this 
sentence, induced me to make inquiries as to her 



496 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

previous history. It appears that in early life she be- 
came seriously awakened, under the ministry of a devoted 
servant of Christ, and soon after obtained peace with 
God, and joined herself to the Independent Church in 
the town in which she then lived. For many years she 
adorned the Christian profession by her most exemplary 
character. Her evidence of acceptance with God was 
undoubted, and fear seldom disturbed her peace; she 
emphatically walked 

" High in salvation, and the climes of bliss !" 

At length, from the peculiar tenets to which she weekly 
listened, she imbibed, in a carnally presumptuous way, 
the doctrine of final perseverance. The influence this 
had upon her mind was soon perceptible : others have 
held this doctrine in connexion with much prayerful 
jealousy over themselves, and thus have neutralized the 
possible effects of a statement which we think unsup- 
ported by Scripture — but she became indifferent as to 
her present experience ; the power of religion was lost ; 
reality declined into dead formality; and yet, when 
spoken to on the subject, she regarded herself ^per- 
fectly safe, and unable finally to fall ! She eventually 
became careless in her attendance on the means of grace 
and the discharge of religious duties, and left the society. 
Being now free from the salutary restraint which union 
with a Christian Church imposes, she sinned with 
greediness. When warned of her danger, and referred 
to her preceding life, she seemed devoid of all religious 
feeling ; and, in extenuation of her sin, would boastingly 
urge that she could not be lost, for she was once a child 
of God ! Her increasing years only increased her guilt, 
and hardened her once tender heart. She continually 
abused the goodness of God, and presumptuously sinned, 
that grace might abound, till old age, with its attendant 
infirmities and afflictions, laid her upon the sick-bed. 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 497 

Now, when death's chilling grasp was felt, and the dread- 
ful realities of an eternal world were disclosing them- 
selves, she saw and felt the rottenness of that foundation 
on which she had built her hopes of salvation. Trem- 
bling under a fearful apprehension of that which awaited 
her, and with a full consciousness of her past folly, she 
uttered the words above, " I have been deceived /" 

The beams of the morning sun now began to scatter 
themselves upon the earth, and daybreak gradually to 
dawn ; but no ray of light to shine upon the poor suf- 
ferer's soul : night, the night of life, — the night of death, 
— the fearful presage of the " blackness of darkness for- 
ever," thickly enveloped her spirit ! I returned to her 
room, resolving to make another, perhaps the last, effort 
to snatch this brand from the burning, over whose lake 
she was suspended by the attenuated and breaking thread 
of life. She appeared to be grappling with her conquer- 
ing foe ; her bosom heaved heavily, and her fearful sighs 
echoed through the room. 1 opened upon the fifty-first 
Psalm, and endeavoured to read the portions most ap- 
propriate to her melancholy case. Unexpectedly she 
stretched forth her trembling and almost nerveless arm, 
seized the book, and tore the leaf from the sacred volume ! 
I knelt down to pray ; as soon as I commenced, she 
mocked me in the most terrific manner, repeatedly ex- 
claiming, " Don't pray for me ! Don't pray for me ! it 
increases my misery ! I am lost ! I am lost !" From 
urgent necessity, and being completely wearied, I soon 
after left her. During the day, 1 was informed that she 
remained much in the same state, frequently blasphem- 
ing the God of heaven, and invoking his wrath. The 
next morning I called, and found the taper of life nearly 
extinguished. Her tongue had ceased to lend its aid to 
increase her guilt ; but alas ! although unable to speak, 
her horrid glances, her awful groans, her significant 
signs, and her continual restlessness, betokened the 



498 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

agony of her mind. I engaged in prayer with her, but 
under the same depressed feelings as above mentioned. 
Circumstances afterwards prevented my seeing her. A 
few days subsequent to my last visit the deep-toned bell 
announced the fearful fact of the poor creature's death. 
Her remains were committed to the melancholy grave 
by the officiating minister, as in " sure and certain hope 
of a joyful resurrection." 

My hand seems palsied as I write, and my blood chills 
in my veins when I think that she died as I had seen 
her, — peaceless and hopeless ! Whatever, therefore, be 
the language of man, the decree of God is irreversible : 
" They that have done evil shall come forth to the resur- 
rection of damnation !" 

Reader! "Be not deceived; God is not mocked: 
for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. 
For he that soweth to his flesh, shall of the flesh reap 
corruption ; but he that soweth to the Spirit, shall of the 
Spirit reap life everlasting." 



4. THE APOSTATE. 

" treacherous conscience ! while she seems to sleep 
On rose and myrtle, lull'd with syren song ; 
While she seems, nodding o'er her charge, to drop 
On headlong appetite the slacken'd rein, 
And gives us up to license unreeall'd, 
Unmark'd, — see from behind her secret stand, 
The sly informer minutes every fault, 
And her dread diary with horror fills." — Young. 

The writer, who communicated these sad facts, was well 

acquainted with R A , late of Maryland, whose 

brief history is here given. At the age of about twenty 
he became anxious for his soul, and convinced that the 
course he had hitherto pursued, if persisted in, would 
lead to endless misery. With this conviction he resolved 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER, 499 

to seek the Lord while he might be found ; and it was 
not long before he thought he had obtained an interest 
in him, and joined the Church. For some time his life 
was apparently consistent with his profession. At 
length he formed an acquaintance with a gay young lady, 
of great personal attractions, but an entire stranger to 
religion ; and although she was not pleased with his re- 
ligious profession, yet his family and personal appear- 
ance were such, that she consented to marriage, thinking 
that in due time she would be able to cure him of his 
religious frenzy. 

She soon commenced the attempt. At first she urged 
that, if they wished to be thought well of by their friends, 
they ought not to refuse to join them at places of diver- 
sion and amusement ; that he must know how persons 
of his inclination were despised by people of respecta- 
bility ; and that he had so much reading and praying in 
his house, the neighbours laughed at him. In fine, said 
she, "I married you to be happy; but I utterly despair 
of happiness, unless you give up your religion and be 
like other people." 

He told her that happiness was what he wanted, but 
he had never found it in the way she proposed ; that the 
happiness which sprung from the customs and pleasures 
of this world was not substantial ; though for the pre- 
sent it might be sweet, in the end it would be bitter as 
death. 

Having found these efforts unavailing to obtain her 
purpose, she refused to attend family devotion. He 
wept, grieved, and in secret often prayed for her. She 
continued to employ every stratagem which her wicked 
imagination could invent. At length, wearied by her 
constant opposition and persecution, he resolved he 
would try to get to heaven alone, as she would not go 
with him ; and determined to attend to his private de- 
votions, and omit those of the family. His wife, however, 



500 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

pursued him to his closet; and succeeded in driving 
him to the relinquishment of every religious duty. And 
now that he forsook God, God forsook him ; the native 
corruptions of a wicked heart began to stir within him, 
and raged, till they broke out in greater excesses than 
he had ever been guilty of before. 

Some time after this he heard a sermon, in which his 
sins were brought fully to his remembrance. He then 
renewedly promised to serve the Lord, let him meet with 
ever so much opposition. But the obstacles were greater 
than he supposed. He found himself in the hands of 
the enemy with less ability to resist temptation than he 
had before. He was like a man, who, bound while asleep, 
struggles, but cannot free himself; groans under his 
bondage and strives for liberty, but strives in vain. At 
this juncture his wife redoubled her efforts, and gained 
her point a second time. He continued sinning with 
little remorse, till, having lost all desire for the means 
of grace, and entirely forsaking the company of the peo- 
ple of God, he gave himself up to the customs and 
maxims of the world, having not the least regard to ex- 
ternal morality ; when at length he was laid on a bed of 
affliction, and his life was despaired of. 

Now his fears were alarmed; his sins appeared in 
dreadful colours before him ; and such was the sense of 
his guilt, that he dared not look to God for mercy. 
" How can I," said he, " expect that God will pardon me, 
when I have run contrary to his will, grieved his Spirit, 
sinned away all the peace I once enjoyed, and have gone 
farther since my apostasy than I ever did before I named 
his name ? that 1 had my time to live over again ! 
that I had never been born !" 

His disorder increased, and his fears were wrought up 
to terror. " If," said he, " God would give me another 
trial, I would amend my ways. If God will not hear 
me, perhaps he will hear the prayers of his people on my 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 501 

behalf. 0, send for them, that they may pray for me ; 
for how can I stand before the avenger of sin in this my 
lamentable condition !" 

His Christian friends visited him ; God appeared to 
answer their prayers, and, contrary to expectation, he re- 
covered. But as his bodily strength increased, his con- 
victions subsided ; and by the tiflae he was fully restored 
to health, he forgot his danger, and actually returned to 
all his former vices. 

Some years after his recovery, I fell in company with 
him, and we entered into close conversation on the state 
of his soul. I asked him what he thought would be his 
destiny if he died in his present state ? 

" Why," said he, " as sure as God is in heaven I 
should be damned." 

"Well," said I, "do you mean to die in this state? 
Do you never think of changing your course of life?" 

" My friend," said he, " I have no desire to serve God ; 
I have no desire for anything that is good : to tell you 
the truth, I as much believe that my damnation is sealed 
as that I am now conversing with you. I remember the 
very time when the Spirit of God departed from me ; 
and what may surprise you more than all, I am no more 
troubled, about it than if there were no God to punish sin 
and no hell to punish sinners in." 

I was struck speechless at his narration ; it is not in 
my power to describe my feelings. The bold indifference 
which marked his features, and the hardness of heart 
displayed by him, were truly shocking. After I parted 
with him, my meditations were engaged upon the awful 
subject. " Lord," thought I, " with whom have I been 
conversing ? An immortal spirit, clothed with flesh and 
blood, who appears to be sealed over to eternal damna- 
tion ! A man who once had a day of grace and the 
offer of mercy, but now appears to be lost, forever lost ! 
To him the door of heaven is shut, never more to be 



502 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

opened. He once had it in his power to accept salva- 
tion, and because he did not improve his time and talents, 
God has judicially taken them all away, and given him 
over to blindness of mind. He is neither moved by 
mercy nor terrified by judgment." 

About two years after this he was laid upon the bed 
of death. His conscience roared like thunder against 
him, and his every sense appeared to be awake to tor- 
ment him. His sickness was short, and his end was 
awful. His Christian friends visited him, and desired 
to administer comfort, but he was comfortless. They 
told him that perhaps he was mistaken — it was not so 
bad with him as he imagined. 

" Ah," said he, " would to God I was mistaken ; happy 
would it be for me. But can I be mistaken about my 
sickness ? Is it imagination which confines me here ? 
Are my pains imaginary ? No, no ! they are a reality ; 
and I am as certain of my damnation as of my pains." 

Some persons offered to pray with him. But he for- 
bade it, and charged them not to attempt it. " For," said 
he, " that moment that you attempt to lift up your hearts 
to God on my behalf, I feel the flames of hell kindle in 
my soul : you might as well pray for Satan as for me ; 
you would have as much success. Do you think to 
force God ? Do you think to force the gates of heaven, 
which are barred by justice against me ? Never. Your 
prayers shall return upon your own head ; I want none 
of them." 

The distress of his mind seemed to make him forget 
the pains of his body, and he continued in nearly the 
same situation till the day of his death. All that 
Christians or Christian ministers could say to him, 
made no impression. He never asked one to pity or 
pray for him. 

Just before his departure, after he had been rolling 
from side to side for some time, with horror depicted in 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 503 

every feature, he called to his wife to bring him a cup of 
cold water ; " for," said he, " in one hour I shall be where 
I shall never get another drop." She brought him the 
water, he drank it with greediness, and reached back the 
cup with a trembling hand ; then staring her in the face, 
his eyes flashing with terror, he cried out, " Rebecca, 
Rebecca, you are the cause of my eternal damnation." 
He turned over, and with an awful groan left the world, 
to enter upon the untried realities of a dread eternity. 

Beloved reader, meditate on this narrative. Be not 
conformed to this world. Yield not to the temptations 
of the adversary of souls. Fear much, lest, a promise 
being left you of entering into the rest of the people of 
God, you come short, and, a hardened, impenitent sin- 
ner, or a self-ruined backslider, finally inherit the por- 
tion of the hypocrite and unbeliever, " where the worm 
dieth not, and the fire is not quenched," and where " the 
backslider shall be filled with his own ways." 



5. PETER DEAN. 

" the dark days of vanity ! while here 
How tasteless ! and how terrible when gone ! 
Gone ? they never go ; when past, they haunt us still ; 
The spirit walks on every day deceased." — Young. 

Peter Dean, after having been a preacher for a year 
on the Norwich circuit, in connexion with Mr. Wesley, 
where he married a rich wife, was taken ill, and died. 
When on the verge of eternity, he confessed that, in his 
profession of religion, he had been influenced by no other 
motive than the desire to obtain riches. " The Lord," 
said he, " has given me my desire, and his curse with it ; 
and now I am ruined forever." 

" From that time," proceeds the account, " he refused 
to be comforted, would take neither food nor medicine, 



504 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

abandoned himself to black despair, and seemed resolved 
to die. For some time before his death, his countenance 
would suddenly change, and be very horrid to look upon ; 
he himself was conscious of it, and would go to the glass, 
and would then turn and say to his wife, * Now, look at 
me — now will you believe V In a short time, he was 
confined to his bed, and was visited by several ministers 
and others, (and among the rest by the gentleman to 
whom the writer is indebted for this awful memoir ;) but 
their admonitions and prayers seemed to be fruitless. 
After this, he one day feigned himself asleep, and Mrs. 
Dean and her companion, that he might not be disturbed, 
left the room. Perceiving that they were gone, he put 
forth all his strength, and rolled himself on the floor ; on 
hearing the noise, they instantly returned, and, fearful 
to relate, found him dead." 



6. FRANCIS SPIRA. 

" Will toys amuse when medicine cannot cure? 
When spirits ebb, when life's enchanting scenes 
Fade in the view, and vanish from the sight — 
Will toys amuse ? No ! thrones will then be toys, 
And earth and skies seem dust upon the scale !" 

Francis Spira was a man of wealth and considerable 
mental acquisitions — at once intelligent and eloquent. 
Attracted by the fame of Luther, and of the principles 
of the reformed religion, he laboured during six years as 
a preacher of evangelical doctrine. This course sub- 
jected him to persecution ; but Spira was not sufficiently 
well-grounded in the truth to contemplate without emo- 
tion such consequences of the opinions he had adopted. 
He shrank from the test to which his position exposed 
him; he renounced his heresy, condemned his new 
tenets, and once more acknowledged the doctrines of the 



SEC. II. j THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 505 

Church of Rome. Ity a public act, at which two thou- 
sand persons were present, he made his recantation ; but 
his internal agony was fearful. He fainted away im- 
mediately after the performance of the ceremony, and 
thenceforth became a stranger to peace. 

Matthew Gribaldo, a civilian of Padua, Spira's native 
city, and Henry Scrimger, a professor at Genoa, have 
given descriptions of Spira's mental tortures. He was 
seized with sickness, declared his disease to be incura- 
ble, and burst forth into such exclamations as these : 
" Who can succour a soul oppressed by a sense of sin, 
and by the wrath of God ? It is Jesus Christ alone who 
must be the Physician, and the Gospel is the only 
antidote." 

Spira was continually calling for water to quench his 
burning thirst, and imploring some one to shorten his 
days. He eloquently described his misery ; exhibited 
to the bystanders the crime he had committed against 
the Gospel of Christ, still refusing all comfort, and say- 
ing, " My sin is greater than the mercy of God. I have 
denied Christ voluntarily and against my convictions. 
I feel that he hardens me, and will allow me no hope." 
Sometimes he declared himself a castaway, " like Judas," 
and sometimes he wished that his days could be 
shortened, and he be suffered to depart to the dwelling 
of the unbelieving, which he said he deserved. He 
avowed, that there was no room within him for anything 
besides torment ; and shouted out, " It is a fearful thing 
to Ml into the hands of the living God," adding at an- 
other time, " I feel the weight of his wrath burning like 
the pains of hell within me, and pressing on my con- 
science with an anguish which cannot be described." 
Verily, despair is in itself a hell. 

■■ I know not what else to say," was his language, " than 
that I am one of those whom God has threatened to tear 
asunder. 0, the cursed day ! 0, the cursed day ! Would 

22 



506 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

I had never been at Venice I" The priest endeavoured to 
cast out the devil which was, he said, within him, but the 
effort was vain. Equally vain were all attempts to lead 
him to receive the sacrament at the hands of his confessor. 
He continually desired to die, and referred to himself as 
an illustration of the Scripture, " They shall desire to 
die, yet death shall flee from them." He warned those 
around him of the danger of denying Christ : exhorting 
them to seek continually the glory of God, and not to be 
afraid of legates, inquisitions, prisons, or any kind of 
death ; often urging upon them the passage, " Whoso- 
ever loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy 
of me." His anxiety was to demonstrate to his friends, 
that all these convictions were not the hallucinations of 
frenzy, but the workings of a clear-sighted though most 
agonized mind. In vain did some of his companions urge 
upon him that his language was not that of a hardened 
heart. "I am only," said he, " like the rich man, who, 
though he was in hell, was anxious that his brethren 
should escape torment. Judas, after betraying his 
Master, was compelled to own his sin, and to declare the 
innocence of Christ, and it is neither new nor singular 
that I do the same. The mercy of Christ is a strong 
rampart against the wrath of God ; but I have demol- 
ished that bulwark with my ow T n hands." 

When his friends began to say farewell to him, he 
avowed to one of them, that he felt his heart full of 
cursing, hatred, and blasphemy against God. The next 
day he attempted suicide. Refusing food, which he 
spat out when offered to him, he at length died misera- 
bly, amidst all the terrors of one forsaken of God. A 
spectator of this scene was Vergerio, who afterwards 
became an eminent bishop in the cause of the reforma- 
tion, and who traced his most lasting impressions to 
this awful scene. 

The remarks of Calvin upon this occurrence are worthy 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER, 507 

of transcription: "May the Lord Jesus confirm our 
hearts in the full and sincere belief of his own Gospel, 
and keep our tongues in the uniform confession of him, 
that as we now join in one song with angels, we may at 
length enjoy together with them the blessed delights of 
the heavenly kingdom." 



7. A YOUNG WOMAN. 

" Youth is not rich in time ; it may be poor ; 
Part with it as with, money, sparing ; pay 
No moment, but in purchase of its worth ; 
And what its worth ? Ask death-beds ; they can tell. 
Part with it as with life, reluctant ; big 
With holy hope of nobler time to come ; 
Time higher aimed, still nearer the great mark 
Of men and angels — virtue more Divine." — Young. 

Several of the preceding narratives show how awful is 
the hour of death to those who deny the Lord who bought 
them. But it is not those only who advance thus far in 
iniquity, that feel the bitterness of death. To many who 
have borne the sacred name of Christian, the hour of 
dissolution is an hour of dismay, and would be so to 
every one who has reached that solemn period, negligent 
of the great salvation, if the soul were sensible of its 
own state, and awake to the contemplation of eternal 
realities. Let the young and careless seriously read the 
impressive account that follows, and while they read it, 
think of their latter end. 

" Bathed in tears, a girl came, about three months ago, 
to tell me that her sister was dying, and wished much to 
see me. The poor woman, who was ■ arrived at life's 
tremendous verge,' was about thirty years of age ; her 
circumstances were lowly, but her mind w T as better in- 
formed than that of most in her rank. She had been 
educated at a Sunday school, and having a remarkably 



508 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

good voice, had attended the chapel with the singers till 
her marriage. At this period, she not only knew much 
of her Bible, but also gave some pleasing symptoms of a 
change of mind. But alas ! she gave her hand to a 
young man who was destitute of the fear of God, and 
who became a snare to her. How many that in youth 
promise fair to be the followers of Jesus, are ruined by 
improper marriages ! Oppressed with domestic cares, 
poor Mary now neglected even an occasional attendance 
on the means of grace. She had run well, but sin de- 
ceived her. Daily misery however preyed on a consti- 
tution at all times delicate. A dropsy threatened her 
with death. No sooner was she confined to the bed of 
affliction, than she recollected the truths which once she 
took delight in learning. ' She remembered God and 
was troubled ;' and her neglect of those things which, she 
well knew, belonged to her eternal peace, filled her mind 
with anguish. 

" I had been with her the day before ; how bitterly did 
she then lament her conduct ! How hard she found the 
way of the transgressor ! I reminded her of what St. 
John says — ' If any man sin, we have an advocate with 
the Father.' She seemed a little encouraged to expect 
mercy ; we engaged in prayer, and parted. But now 
she was evidently dying. As I entered the room, I 
beheld a face distorted with pain, and heard an exclama- 
tion, distressing enough to pierce any heart, 'Oil can- 
not die: — I want to see his face P Never did 1 enter so 
fully into the importance of Balaam's prayer, 'Let me 
die the death of the righteous ; and let my last end be 
like his.' I asked her whose face she wished to sec. 
Her reply was, ' The reconciled face of Jesus.' 

" 'Have you no hope of an interest in Christ?' I in- 
quired. 

" ' No, I have no hope ; I am lost ; I cannot die !' 

" How I longed for some careless people whom I knew, 



SEC. II.] THE DYING BACKSLIDER. 509 

to witness the end of one who had neglected — and that 
against the dictates of her own conscience — the great 
salvation !" 

The writer of this account then endeavoured to point 
her to the blood of Jesus. " 0," she exclaimed, ;t that 
I had an interest in that blood t" He soon after left the 
room with feelings not to be described, and in a few 
minutes she expired. 

let those who have enjoyed religious instruction 
in youth, and afterward neglected the Saviour and 
salvation, consider what miseries they are preparing for 
themselves hereafter ! And let them remember her 
whose last words, almost, were, " 0, I cannot die ! I 
cannot die!" 



510 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

SECTION III. 

Wqz Urging jpmwtttor. 

1. SOME OF THE EARLY PERSECUTORS. 

It is remarkable that few of the emperors, distinguished 
for their cruelty and their persecutions of Christians 
during the first three centuries, escaped some miserable 
end or other. Tiberius and the other " three Neros " 
after him, suffered violent deaths. After Nero, Domitius 
Galba within seven months was slain by Otho ; and Otho 
afterwards killed himself, being overcome by Vitellius. 
Vitellius shortly after was drawn through the city of 
Rome, and after he was tormented, was thrown into the 
Tiber. Domitian, after having poisoned his brother, 
Titus, and proved himself a cruel and vindictive perse- 
cutor of Christians, was murdered in his chamber — his 
wife knowing and consenting to the deed. Commodus 
likewise was murdered by Narcissus. Pertinax and 
Julianus experienced a like end. Severus was slain in 
England, and his son Geta was killed by his brother 
Bassianus, who was in turn murdered by Macrinus. 
Heliogabalus, a glutton in habit, a monster in cruelty, 
was killed by his own people, drawn through the city 
and cast into the Tiber. Maximinus, having slain the 
emperor, his benefactor, three years after was slain by 
his own soldiers. Maximus, Balbinus, and Gordian, 
were all three slain. The wicked Decius was drowned, 
and his son slain in battle at the same time. Gallus and 
Volusianus his sons, emperors after Decius, were both 
slain by a conspiracy of Emilianus, who within three 
months after was also slain himself. Valerian was taken 
prisoner by the Persians, and was there made the butt 



SEC. III.] THE DYING PERSECUTOR. 511 

of ridicule by Sapores the Persian king, who also used 
him for a stool to leap upon his horse. Galienus was 
killed by Aurelian. Aurelian, also a persecutor, was 
slain by his secretary. Tacitus reigned six months and 
was then slain at Pontus ; Florinus, his brother, reigned 
two months, and was murdered at Tarsis. Diocletian 
and Maximian both deposed themselves from the empire. 
The miserable end of Galerius is described in another 
place. Maximums died a miserable death ; and Max- 
entius, after being vanquished by Constantine, was 
drowned in the Tiber. Licinius also, after being de- 
posed from his empire, was slain by his soldiers. 

Thus did the just vengeance of God fall upon the 
wicked and cruel emperors who arrayed themselves 
against the cause of Christ. The punishment of God, 
though long delayed, is certain to fall upon the wicked. 



2. DEATH OF SEVERAL PERSECUTORS EST THE REIGN 
OF MARY. 

The miserable end of many of the principal actors in 
the persecutions carried on during the short but infam- 
ous reign of " bloody Mary," is not less striking, and is 
even more strongly marked by the judgments of God, 
than that of the earlier persecutors. Bonner is men- 
tioned elsewhere. Gardiner, transferred from the Tower, 
where he had been confined by Edward VL, to be lord 
chancellor by Queen Mary, was not inferior to Bonner 
in unrelenting cruelty, and certainly exceeded him in 
duplicity and faithlessness. His death took place in 1555, 
while yet the bloody work of persecution was going on ; 
and his last moments were imbittered by the compunc- 
tions of a guilty conscience for his cruelties, when, upon 
his death-bed, he was reminded by a bishop present, of 
Peter denying his Master. " Ah !" said he, " I have 



512 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

denied, but never repented with Peter." .... Morgan, 
who succeeded Farrar as bishop of St. David's, was 
stricken by the visitation of God soon after being in- 
stalled in his bishopric. His food passed through his 
throat, but rose again with great violence. In this man- 
ner, almost literally starved to death, he terminated his 
existence. 

Bishop Thornton, suffragan of Dover, was an inde- 
fatigable persecutor. One day, after he had exercised 
his cruel tyranny upon a number of pious persons at 
Canterbury, he came from the chapter-house to Borne, 
where, as he stood on a Sunday looking at his men play- 
ing at bowls, he fell down in a fit of the palsy, and did 
not long survive. 

The successor of Thornton, soon after he had been 
ordained by Gardiner, fell down a pair of stairs in the 
cardinal's chamber at Greenwich, and broke his neck. 
He had just received the cardinal's blessing — he could 
receive nothing worse. 

Grimwood, one of the perjured villains employed to 
secure the conviction of Protestants, died while at work 
stacking up corn in the field, from having his bowels 
suddenly burst out. 

Sheriff Woodruffe, was one of those who rejoiced at 
the death of the saints, and whose offices were never 
wanting to effect it. He treated with unfeeling cruelty 
the martyr, John Bradford ; and at the execution of Mr. 
Rogers, he broke the carman's head, because he stopped 
the cart to let the martyr's children take a last farewell 
of him. He was struck with a paralytic affection, and 
reduced to a most pitiable and helpless condition ; and 
the misery of his last hours presented a striking contrast 
to his former activity in the cause of blood. 

Ralph Lardin, who betrayed the martyr, George 
Eagles, was afterward arraigned and hanged. At the 
bar, he exclaimed, " This has most justly fallen upon me. 



SEC. III.] THE DYING PERSECUTOR. 513 

for betraying the innocent blood of that just and good 
man, George Eagles, who was here condemned in the 
time of Queen Mary by my procurement, when I sold 
his blood for a little money." 

Froling, a priest of much celebrity, fell down in the 
street, and died on the spot. 

Dale, an indefatigable informer, was consumed by 
vermin, and died a miserable spectacle. 

Sir Ralph Ellerker was eagerly desirous to see the 
heart taken out of Adam Damlip, who was wrongfully 
put to death. Shortly after, Sir Ralph was slain by the 
French, who mangled him dreadfully, cut off his limbs, 
and tore his heart out. 

Alexander, the severe keeper of Newgate, died misera- 
bly, swelling to a prodigious size, and became so in- 
wardly putrid, that none could come near him. This 
cruel minister of the law would go to Bonner, Story, and 
others, requesting them to rid his prison, he was so much 
pestered with heretics ! The son of this keeper, in three 
years after his father's death, dissipated his great pro- 
perty, and died suddenly in Newgate-market. " The 
sins of the father," says the decalogue, " shall be visited 
on the children." 

John Peter, son-in-law of Alexander, a horrid blas- 
phemer and persecutor, died wretchedly. When he 
affirmed anything, he would say, "If it be not true, I 
pray I may rot ere I die." This awful state visited him 
in all its loathsomeness. 

Henry Smith, a student in the law, had a pious Pro- 
testant father, of Camden, in Gloucestershire, by whom 
he was virtuously educated. While studying law in the 
Middle Temple, he w r as induced to profess Catholicism. 
He afterwards became an open reviler and persecutor 
of the religion in which he had been brought up ; but 
conscience one night reproached him so dreadfully, that 
in a fit of despair he hung himself in his garters. He 

22* 



514 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

■was buried in a lane, without the Christian service being 
read over him. 

Dr. Story was cut off by public execution, a practice 
in which he had taken great delight when in power. 
He is supposed to have had a hand in most of the con- 
flagrations in Mary's time, and was even ingenious in 
his invention of new modes of inflicting torture. When 
Elizabeth came to the throne, he was committed to pri- 
son, but unaccountably effected his escape to the conti- 
nent, to carry fire and sword there among the Protestant 
brethren. From the duke of Alva, at Antwerp, he re- 
ceived a special commission to search all ships for con- 
traband goods, and particularly for English heretical 
books. He gloried in a commission that was ordered 
by Providence to be his ruin, and to preserve the faith- 
ful from his sanguinary cruelty. It was contrived that 
one Parker, a merchant, should sail to Antwerp, and in- 
formation should be given to Dr. Story that he had a 
quantity of heretical books on board. The latter no 
sooner heard this, than he hastened to the vessel, sought 
everywhere above, and then went under the hatches, 
which were fastened down upon him. A prosperous 
gale brought the ship to England. After being con- 
demned he was laid upon a hurdle, and drawn from the 
Tower to Tyburn, where, after being suspended about 
half an hour, he was cut down, stripped, and the execu- 
tioner displayed the heart of a traitor. Thus ended the 
existence of this Nimrod of England. 



3. MAXIMIN. 

Maximin, emperor of the east, in the beginning of the 
fourth century, was one of the most savage and relent- 
less persecutors of the early Christians. He directed 
what is termed the sixth general persecution, inventing 



SEC. III.] THE DYING PERSECUTOR. 515 

and executing the most horrid punishments on the fol- 
lowers of Jesus. Engaged in war with Licinius. he 
vowed to Jupiter, that, if successful, he would annihilate 
the very name of Christianity. But he was conquered, 
and was soon after smitten with a dreadful plague, be- 
neath the influence of which his flesh wasted from his 
bones ; he suffered the pangs of hunger in the midst of 
plenty ; his eyes started from their sockets ; and accord- 
ing to the account of Eusebius, he believed himself con- 
demned by the righteous judgment of God. In his 
agonies, he shrieked, " It was not I ; it was others who 
did it !" Writhing under his disease, he made the most 
abject confessions of his guilt, and besought that Christ 
whom he had persecuted, to have pity on him, avowing 
himself conquered by a superior power. Thus misera- 
bly died this wretched man. 



4. GALERIUS. 

Galerius was the adopted son of Diocletian, and suc- 
ceeded to the government of the eastern part of the 
Roman Empire on the resignation of that monarch. He 
was naturally of a tyrannical and cruel disposition, and 
bore an implacable hatred to the Christian religion and 
all professing it. At his instigation, Diocletian com- 
menced the tenth general persecution in the year of our 
Lord 303. Fitted by nature and possessing the power, 
he became one of the most terrible scourges of the 
Christian Church. He not only condemned Christians 
to torture, but often burned them to death in slow fires 
and with the most horrible torments. He would have 
them chained to a post, then a gentle fire put to the soles 
of their feet, which contracted the callous till it fell off 
from the bone ; then flambeaux just extinguished were 
put to all parts of their bodies, so that they might be 



516 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

tortured all over. At the same time, care was taken to 
keep them alive by throwing cold water in their faces 
and giving them some to wash their mouths, lest their 
throats should be dried up with thirst and choke them. 
Thus their miseries were lengthened out whole days, till 
at last, their skins being consumed, they were just ready 
to expire, when they were thrown into a great fire, and 
their bodies burned to ashes, which were afterwards care- 
fully scraped up and thrown into the river. 

Galerius was visited by an incurable and intolerable 
disease, which began with an ulcer in his secret parts 
and a fistula in ano, that spread progressively to his 
inmost bowels, and baffled all the skill of physicians and 
surgeons. Untried medicines of some daring professors 
drove the evil through his bones to the very marrow, and 
worms began to breed in his entrails ; and the stench was 
so preponderant as to be perceived in the city, all the pas- 
sages separating the passages of the urine, and excrements 
being corroded and destroyed. The whole mass of his 
body was turned into universal rottenness ; and, though 
living creatures, and boiled animals, were applied with the 
design of drawing out the vermin by the heat, by which a 
vast hive was opened, a second imposthume discovered 
a more prodigious swarm, as if his whole body was re- 
solved into worms. By a dropsy also his body was 
grossly disfigured ; for although his upper parts were 
exhausted, and dried to a skeleton, covered only with 
dead skin, the lower parts were swelled up like bladders, 
and the shape of his feet could scarcely be perceived. 
Torments and pains insupportable, greater than those he 
had inflicted upon the Christians, accompanied these 
visitations, and he bellowed out like a wounded bull, 
often endeavouring to kill himself, and destroying seve- 
ral physicians for the inefficacy of their medicines. 
These torments kept him in a languishing state a full 
year ; and his conscience was awakened, at length, so 



SEC. III.] THE DYING PERSECUTOR. 517 

that he was compelled to acknowledge the God of the 
Christians, and to promise in the intervals of his parox- 
ysms, that he would rebuild the churches, and repair the 
mischiefs done to them. An edict, in his last agonies, 
was published in his name, and the joint names of Con- 
stantine and Licinius, to permit the Christians to have 
the free use of their religion, and to supplicate their God 
for his health and the good of the empire; on which 
many prisoners in Nicomedia were liberated, and 
amongst others Donatus. 



5. JULIAN THE APOSTATE, 

Julian the Apostate sought to destroy the Christian 
religion, and its ministry, by depriving them of their 
schools and the means of education. He avowed it as 
his object to show the falsity of the Scripture predictions 
respecting the temple; and for this purpose he gave 
orders that it should be rebuilt, and the Jews' worship 
set up again. But, as historians relate, he was utterly 
defeated; balls of fire issuing out of the foundation, 
scattering the materials and overwhelming the workmen 
with terror. He fell in battle, fighting against the Per- 
sians. Finding himself mortally wounded, he received 
a handful of his gushing blood, and threw it up towards 
heaven, "in spite," says one historian, "against the sun, 
the idol of the Persians, which fought against him ;" but 
more probably, as other respectable historians state, " in 
malignant hatred against Christ ;" who also add, that 
" as he hurled the blood upward, he cried, ' Thou hast 
conquered, O Galilean P " 



518 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 



6. GARDINER, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 

"Is there not some chosen curse, 
Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven, 
Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man 
Who gains his fortune from the blood of souls ?" 

Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, and chancellor of 
England, was one of the most virulent opponents of the 
cause of the Reformation in that country. We cannot, 
in our brief space, give the reader any true notion of 
the enormous horrors and cruelties perpetrated by his 
orders under the sanguinary reign of Mary, truly desig- 
nated " the bloody." When he came to die, November 
12th, 1555, he exhibited great remorse at the remem- 
brance of his various cruelties. " He often," says Bishop 
Burnet, " repeated those words, ' Erravi cum Petro, seel 
non flevi cum Petro, 1 " (I have erred with Peter, but 
have not repented with him.) 



7. GEORGE JOHN JEFFREYS. 

The death-bed of George John Jeffreys, chief justice, 
and afterwards lord chancellor in the reign of James II., 
was an appropriate close to a life of monstrous de- 
bauchery and brutal cruelties, to which the powers of 
his high station gave a dreadful force. He was impri- 
soned on the flight of his master in the Tower, where he 
lingered out a wretched and unpitied life, amidst the 
utmost remorse of conscience. He was suspected to 
have died by his own hand. 






SEC. III.] THE DYINa PERSECUTOR. 519 



8. ANTIOCHUS IV. 

Antiochus IV. was an unrelenting enemy of the Church 
of God. In a furious passion he vowed the utter ruin 
of Jerusalem and the people of God. He took an oath 
that he would make it a national sepulchre for the Jews, 
and extirpate them to a man. But even while the words 
were in his mouth the wrath of God fell on him, and 
smote him with a horrible disease. In spite of all the 
arts of his physicians, his body became a mass of putre- 
faction, whence there issued an incredible number of 
worms ; and the torture of his mind w T as infinitely su- 
perior to that of his body. And before he sunk into a 
delirium he acknowledged that it was the hand of the 
Almighty that had crushed him. 



9. PHILIP II, OF SPAIN. 

Philip II., of Spain, was a persecutor of Christians, 
more bigoted and more bloody than even Antiochus. 
He was smitten by the same disease. His flesh con- 
sumed away on his bones, by incurable ulcers, which 
sent forth innumerable swarms of worms, so that nobody 
could approach him without fainting. His shrieks and 
groans were heard all over the palace. 



10. ALEXANDER CAMPBELL. 

Alexander Campbell was a Dominican friar, who 
stood by and assailed the Scottish martyr, Patrick 
Hamilton. After the martyr was in the flames, and the 
powder, having exploded, had severely scorched his hand 



520 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

and face, this impious man cried out incessantly to him, 
" Repent, heretic. Call on our lady, and say, Hail, Mary !" 
The martyr meekly replied, " Depart from me, thou 
messenger of Satan, and trouble not my last moments." 
But, as he still uttered with great vehemence, " Pray to 
our lady ; say, Hail, Mary," the martyr turned his eyes 
on him and said, " thou vilest of men, thou knowest 
in thy conscience that these doctrines which thou con- 
demnest are true, and this thou didst confess to me in 
secret. I cite thee to answer for this at the judgment- 
seat of Christ." Buchanan and Knox add, that the friar 
in a short time became distracted, and died in the rag- 
ings of despair. 



11. CHARLES IX., OF FRANCE. 

Charles IX., of France, was a modern Nero, as the 
memorable St. Bartholomew's massacre, conducted under 
his auspices, can testify. He plotted the horrid massa- 
cre of the Protestants in his kingdom. Within a few 
days thirty thousand, others say fifty thousand, an- 
other writer, one hundred thousand Protestants were 
butchered in cold blood. The day after the butchery he 
observed several fugitives about his palace, and taking 
a fowling piece, fired upon them repeatedly. 

He died in the midst of these disorders, overcome by 
vague and sombre terrors, believing that he heard groans 
in the air, starting from his sleep at night, and struck 
by a strange malady, which made him bleed from every 
pore. 

" Two days before his death, he had near him," says 
L'Estoile, " his nurse, whom he ardently loved, although 
she luas a Huguenot. As she was sitting upon a chest, 
and commenced nodding, having heard the king com- 
plaining, weeping, and groaning, she approached his bed 



SEC. III.] THE DYING PERSECUTOR. 521 

very softly ; and taking off the coverlet, the king began 
to say to her, drawing a deep sigh, and weeping so vio- 
lently that the sobs interrupted his words : ' Ah, my 
nurse, my dear nurse, what blood, what murders ! 
ah ! what evil counsels I have followed ! 0, my God, 
pardon me, and have mercy on me, if thou canst. I 
know not what I am. What shall 1 do ? I am lost : I 
see it well.' The nurse said to him, ' Sire, let the mur- 
ders rest on those who counselled you to them ! And 
since you consented not to them, and are repentant, trust 
that God will not charge them upon you, and will cover 
them with the mantle of his Son's justice, to whom alone 
you should turn. 3 Upon that, having brought a hand- 
kerchief, his own being saturated with his tears, after 
his majesty had taken it from her hand, he made her a 
sign that she should retire and allow him to rest. 

Soon after he expired, exhibiting on his death-bed the 
appalling exhibition of a tortured conscience and an 
avenging heaven." 



12. ROCKWOOD. 

During the Papist persecution in England, one Rock- 
wood distinguished himself for his busy malignity, and 
in his last sickness he fell to raging, "I am utterly 
damned !" He was exhorted to ask mercy of God, but 
he roared out, " It is now too late, for I have maliciously 
sought the death of many godly persons, and that against 
my own conscience, and therefore it is now too late." 



522 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 



13. BISHOP BRAMBLE. 

When the celebrated Mr. Blair of the seventeenth cen- 
tury, was deposed by Bishop Bramble of Deny, in Ire- 
land, he cited the bishop to appear before the tribunal 
of Christ, to answer for that wicked action. "I appeal," 
said the bishop, " from the justice of God to his mercy." 

" Your appeal," replied Mr. Blair, " is likely to be re- 
jected ; because, in prohibiting us the exercise of our 
ministry, you act against the light of your own con- 
science." 

The bishop was shortly after smitten with sickness, 
and when Dr. Maxwell, his physician, inquired of him 
what was his particular complaint, after a long silence 
he replied, " It is my conscience !" 

"I have," rejoined the doctor, "no cure for that." 

This confession the friends of the bishop endeavoured 
to suppress ; but the countess of Andes, who had it from 
the doctor's mouth, and who was worthy of credit, used 
to say, " No man shall suppress that report ; for 1 shall 
bear witness of it to the glory of God, who smote him 
for persecuting Christ's faithful servants." 



SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 523 

SECTION. IV. 

®J)£ IDging Jnfilul. 

1. VOLTAIRE. 

" The Frenchman first in literary fame, 
Mention him if you please — Voltaire ? — The same, 
With spirit, genius, eloquence supplied, 
Lived long, wrote much, laugh 1 d heartily, and died. 
The Scripture was his jest-book, whence he drew 
Bon-mots to gall the Christian and the Jew. 
An infidel in health ; — but what when sick ? 
! then a text would touch him to the quick." — Cowpee. 

It is well known that this celebrated infidel laboured 
through a long life to diffuse the poison of infidelity. 
In life he was pre-eminent in guilt, and at death in 
misery. He had been accustomed for years to call the 
adorable Saviour "the Wretch," and to vow that he 
would crush him. He closed many of his letters to his 
infidel friends with these words—" Crush the Wretch ;" 
— yet such is the detestable meanness, as well as wicked- 
ness of infidelity, that during these efforts to destroy 
Christianity, he was accustomed to receive the sacra- 
ment, and to attend to some other outward acts of re- 
ligion, that he might be able to deny his infidelity if 
accused of it ! Such was he in health ; but dangerous 
sickness and approaching death, though they could not 
soften the hard heart of the hypocritic infidel into real 
penitence, filled it with agony, remorse, and despair. 

Voltaire had risen, in poor deluded France, high in 
worldly prosperity and fame; but the Most High ap- 
peared to permit him to rise to the pinnacle of glory, 
only that he might sink with deeper ruin to the gulfs 



524 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

below, and thus afford a more impressive warning of the 
effects of his folly and his sin. 

The following awful description has been given of his 
last hours : — 

" It was during Voltaire's last visit to Paris, when his 
triumph was complete, and he had even feared he should 
die with glory amidst the acclamations of an infatuated 
theatre, that he was struck by the hand of Providence, 
and fated to make a very different termination of his 
career. 

"In the midst of his triumphs, a violent bleeding 
raised apprehensions for his life. D' Alembert, Diderot, 
and Marmontel, hastened to support his resolution in 
his last moments, but were only witnesses to their 
mutual ignominy, as well as to his own. 

" Here let not the historian fear exaggeration. Rage, 
remorse, reproach, and blasphemy, all accompany and 
characterize the long agony of the dying atheist. His 
death, the most terrible that is ever recorded to have 
stricken the impious man, will not be denied by his 
companions in impiety. Their silence, however much 
they may wish to deny it, is the least of those corrob- 
orative proofs that could be adduced. Not one of them 
has ever dared to mention any sign given, of resolution 
or tranquillity, by the premier chief, during the space of 
three months, which elapsed from the time he was 
crowned in the theatre, until his decease. Such a 
silence expresses how great their humiliation was in his 
death! 

"It was on his return from the theatre, and in the 
midst of the toils he was resuming in order to acquire 
fresh applause, when Voltaire was warned, that the long 
career of his impiety v^as drawing to an end." 

In spite of all the infidel philosophers who flocked 
around him, in the first days of his illness, he gave 
signs of wishing to return to the God he had so often 



SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 525 

blasphemed. He called for the priest, who ministered 
to Him whom he had sworn to crush, under the appella- 
tion of " the Wretch." His danger increasing he wrote, 
entreating the Abbe Gualtier to visit him. He after- 
ward made a declaration, in which he, in fact, renounced 
his infidelity. 

This declaration was signed by himself and two wit- 
nesses, one of whom was the Marquis de Villevieille, to 
whom, eleven years before, Voltaire was wont to write, 
" Conceal your march from the enemy, in your endea- 
vours to crush the Wretch !" 

" Voltaire had permitted this declaration to be carried 
to the rector of St. Sulpice, and to the archbishop of 
Paris, to know whether it would be sufficient. When 
the Abbe Gualtier returned with the answer, it was im- 
possible for him to gain admittance to the patient. The 
conspirators had strained every nerve to hinder their 
chief from consummating his recantation, and every 
avenue was shut to the -priest, whom Voltaire himself 
had sent for. The demons haunted every access ; rage 
succeeded to fury and fury to rage again, during the re- 
mainder of his life. 

" Then it was that D'Alembert, Diderot, and about 
twenty others of the conspirators, who had beset his 
apartment, never approached him, but to witness their 
own ignominy ; and often he would curse them, and ex- 
claim : ' Retire ! It is you that have brought me to my 
present state ! Begone ! I could have done without 
you all ; but you could not exist without me ! And what 
a wretched glory have you procured me !' 

" Then would succeed the horrid remembrance of hi& 
conspiracy. They could hear him, the prey of anguish 
and dread, alternately supplicating or blaspheming that 
God whom he had conspired against ; and in plaintive 
accents would he cry out, ' Christ ! Jesus Christ !' 
and then complain that he was abandoned by God and 



526 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

man. The hand, which had traced, in ancient writ, the 
sentence of an impious and reviling king, seemed to trace 
before his eyes, ' Crush then, do crush the Wretch.' In 
vain he turned his head away; the time was coming 
apace when he was to appear before the tribunal of Him 
he had blasphemed; and his physicians, particularly 
Mr. Tronchin, calling in to administer relief, thunder- 
struck, retired, declaring the death of the impious man 
to be terrible indeed. The pride of the conspirators 
would willingly have suppressed these declarations, but 
it was in vain. The Mareschal de Richelieu flies from 
the bed-side, declaring it to be a sight too terrible to be 
sustained ; and Mr. Tronchin, that the furies of Orestes 
could give but a faint idea of those of Voltaire." 

In one of these visits the doctor found him in the 
greatest agonies, exclaiming, with the utmost horror, 
" I am abandoned by Grod and man." He then said, 
" Doctor, I will give you half of what I am worth, if you 
will give me six months' life." The doctor answered, 
" Sir, you cannot live six weeks." Voltaire replied, 
" Then I shall go to hell, and you will go with me !" and 
soon after expired. 



2. THOMAS PAINE. 

" Horrible is the end of the unrighteous generation." 

This unhappy man is well known to have been one of 
the most malignant enemies of Christianity. He was 
an avowed infidel in principle, and an open profligate in 
practice. He lived despised by the wise and good, and, 
like many other infidels, died apparently full of dread of 
the future, though a stranger to that repentance which is 
unto life. The following account of the concluding 
scenes of his life, is from the pen of Dr. Manley, a respect- 
able physician, who attended him in his last illness : — 






SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 527 

" During the latter part of his life, though his con- 
versation was equivocal, his conduct was singular. He 
would not be left alone night or day ; he not only re- 
quired to have some person with him ; but he must see 
that he or she was there, and would not allow his cur- 
tains to be closed at any time; and if, as it would 
sometimes unavoidably happen, he was left alone, he 
would scream and halloo until some person came to him. 
When relief from pain would admit, he would seem 
thoughtful and contemplative, his eyes generally closed, 
and his hands folded on his breast, although he never 
slept without the assistance of an anodyne. There was 
something remarkable in his conduct at this time, which 
comprises about two weeks before his death, particularly 
when we reflect that Thomas Paine was the author of 
the ' Age of Reason.' He would call out during his 
paroxysms of distress, without intermission, ' Lord, 
help me ! — God, help me ! — Jesus Christ, help me ! — 
Lord, help me/ &c; repeating the same expressions 
without the least variation, in a tone that would alarm the 
house. It was this conduct, that induced me to think 
that he had abandoned his former opinions ; and I w T as 
more inclined to that belief when I understood from his 
nurse, who is a very serious, and 1 believe a pious woman, 
that he would occasionally inquire, on seeing her engaged 
with a book, what she was reading ; and being answered, 
and at the same time being asked whether she should 
read aloud, he assented, and would appear to give par- 
ticular attention. I took occasion, during the night of 
the 5th and 6th of June, to test the strength of his 
opinions respecting revelation. I purposely made him 
a very late visit; it was a time which seemed to suit my 
errand, it was midnight. He was in great distress, con- 
stantly exclaiming in the words above-mentioned, when 
I addressed him in the following manner, the nurse 
being present : ' Mr. Paine, your opinions, by a large 



528 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

portion of the community, have been treated with defer- 
ence. You must be sensible that we are acquainted with 
your religious opinions, as they are given to the world ; 
what then must we think of your present conduct? 
Why do you call upon Jesus Christ to help you ? Do 
you believe in the Divinity of Jesus Christ ? Come now, 
answer me honestly — I want an answer as from the lips 
of a dying man, for I verily believe that you will not live 
twenty-four hours.' I waited sometime at the end of 
every question : he did not answer, but ceased to ex- 
claim in the above manner. Again I addressed him, 
* Mr. Paine, you have not answered my questions ; will 
you answer them ? — Allow me to ask, do you believe ?— 
or let me qualify the question — Do you wish to believe 
that Jesus Christ is the Son of God ? After a pause of 
some moments, he answered, - I have no wish to believe 
.on the subject.' I then left him." 

He was also visited by a Quaker who was in the prac- 
tice of visiting the sick, for the purpose of affording them 
consolation. He said, he never saw a man in so much 
apparent distress. He sat with his elbow on his knee, 
and his head leaning on his hand ; and beside him stood 
a vessel, to catch the blood that was oozing from him in 
five different streams, like spicler's-webs — one from the 
corner of his mouth, one from each eye, and one from 
each nostril ! This Friend endeavoured to get him into 
conversation, but was only answered by horrible looks 
and dreadful groans. He was also visited by a preacher 
of the Methodist order. His object was, if possible, to 
get from him the truth in his dying hour, in relation to 
his future prospects with eternity. But all he could get 
from him, in answer to his questions, was awful groans, 
which seemed to unnerve the w T hole system. This man 
was with him until he drew his last breath, and his im- 
mortal spirit had fled. 



SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 529 

3. FRANCIS NEWPORT. 

" The wicked is driven away in his wickedness." 

Francis Newport, who died in the year 1692, was 
favoured with both a religious and liberal education. 
After spending five years in the university, he was 
entered in one of the Inns of Court. Here he fell 
into the hands of infidels, lost his religious impressions, 
forsook the paths of virtue, became an avowed infidel, 
and associated himself with a club of educated but aban- 
doned wretches, who met regularly to encourage and con- 
firm each other in wickedness. 

He continued thus for several years, till habits of dis- 
sipation and vice brought on an illness, during which his 
former religious impressions revived with invincible 
force. The horror of his mind was inexpressible; the 
sweat poured from his system ; and in nine days he was 
reduced, principally through mental anguish, from a ro- 
bust state of health to perfect weakness. His expres- 
sions and language, all the while, were the most dread- 
ful that imagination can conceive. 

Writing to his companions, he said, '"'Who, alas! can 
write his own tragedy without tears, or copy out the seal 
of his own damnation without horror ? That there is a 
God I know, because I continually feel the effects of his 
wrath ; that there is a hell I am equally certain, having 
received an earnest of my inheritance there already in 
my breast." 

His friends, who had only heard he was distracted, 
hearing him deliver himself in such terms, were amazed, 
and began to inquire of those around, what made him talk 
at such a rate ? He, hearing them whispering together, 
and imagining the cause, called them all to him, and 
said, " You imagine me melancholy or distracted; I 



530 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

wish I were either, but it is part of my judgment that 
I am not. No ; my apprehension of persons and things 
is rather more quick and vigorous than it was when I 
was in perfect health ; and it is my curse, because 
thereby I am more sensible of the condition I am fallen 
into. Would you be informed why I am become a skele- 
ton in three or four days ? See how then I have de- 
spised my Maker, and denied my Redeemer; I have 
joined myself to the atheists and profane, and continued 
this course under many convictions, till my iniquity was 
ripe for vengeance, and the just judgment of God over- 
took me when my security was the greatest and the 
checks of my conscience were the least. How idle is it 
to bid the fire not burn when fuel is administered, and to 
command the seas to be smooth in the midst of a storm ! 
Such is my case; and what are the comforts of my 
friends ? But I am spent, — I can complain no more. 
Would to God that the cause of my complaining would 
cease. The cause of my complaining ! this renews my 
grief, and summons up the little strength I have left to 
complain again, like an expiring blaze before it is ex- 
tinguished. It is just so with me ; but whither am I 
going?" 

As he said this he fainted away, and lay in a swoon 
for a considerable time ; but by the help of some spirits, 
he was brought to himself again. 

" My business," says the writer, " calling me away for 
a day or two, I came again on Thursday morning pretty 
early. When I came in I inquired of his friends how he 
spent his time. They told me he had had little com- 
pany ; and his expressions were much shorter ; but 
what he did speak seemed to have more horror and de- 
spair than before. I went to his bedside, and asked him 
how he did. He replied, ' Damned and lost forever.' I 
told him the purposes of God were hidden ; perhaps he 
was punished in this life to fit him for a better. He 



SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 531 

answered, ' They are not hidden to me, but discovered ; 
and my greatest torment, my punishment here, is for an 
example to others. that there was no God, or that 
this God could cease to be, for 1 am sure he will have no 
mercy upon me !' 

" ' Alas !' said I, ' there is no contending with our 
Creator, and therefore avoid such words as may provoke 
him more.' 

" ' True/ replied he, ; there is no contending ; I wish 
there was a possibility of getting above God — that would 
be a heaven to me.' 

" I entreated him not to give way to such blasphemous 
thoughts, for — . Here he interrupted me. ' Read we not 
in the Revelation of them that blasphemed God because 
of their pains ? I am one of their number. how do 
I envy the happiness of Cain and Judas !' 

" ' But,' replied 1, ' you are yet alive, and do not feel 
the torments of those that are in hell.' 

" He answered, - This is either true or false ; if it be 
true, how heavy will those torments be,, of which I do 
not yet feel the uttermost ? But I know it is false, and 
that I endure more than the spirits of the damned ; for. 
I have the very same tortures upon my spirit that they 
have, beside those I endure in my body. I believe at 
the day of judgment the torments of my mind and body 
will both together be more intense ; but, as I now am, no 
spirit in hell endures what 1 do. How r gladly would I 
change my condition for hell ! How earnestly would I 
entreat my angry Judge to send me thither, were I not 
afraid that out of vengeance he would deny me !' Here 
he closed his eyes a little, and began to talk very wildly, 
every now r and then groaning and gnashing his teeth ; 
but soon after, opening his eyes, he grew sensible again, 
and felt his own pulse, saying, * How lazily my minutes 
go on ! When will be the last breath, the last pulse, 
that shall beat my spirit out of this decayed mansion, 



532 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

into the desired regions of death and hell ? 0, I find it 
is just now at hand ! And what shall I say now ? Am 
not 1 afraid again to die ? Ah ! the forlorn hopes of him 
that has not God to go to ! Nothing to fly to for peace 
and comfort !' Here his speech failed him : we all, be- 
lieving him to be dying, went to prayer, which threw him 
into an agony ; in which, though he could not speak, he 
turned away his face, and made what noise he could to 
hinder himself from hearing. Perceiving this we gave 
over. 

" As soon as he could speak, (which was not till after 
some time,) he said, • Tigers and monsters, are ye also 
become devils to torment me, and give me a prospect of 
heaven, to make my hell more intolerable V 

" ■ Alas ! sir,' said I, ' it is our desire of your happi- 
ness that casts us down at the throne of grace ; if God 
denies assistance, who else can give it ? If he will not 
have mercy, whither must we go for it V 

" He replied, ' ! that is the dart that wounds me ! 
God is become, my enemy, and there is none so strong 
as to deliver me out of his hands. He consigns me over 
to eternal vengeance, and there is none able to redeem 
me ! Were there such another God as he, who would 
patronize my cause ; or were I above God, or indepen- 
dent of him; could I act or dispose of myself as I 
pleased; then would my horrors cease, and the. expecta- 
tions and designs of my formidable enemies be frustrated. 
But ! this cannot be, for I .' 

" His voice failed again, and he began to struggle and 
gasp for breath; which, having recovered, with a groan 
dreadful and horrid as if it had been more than human, 
he cried out, * O ! the insufferable pangs of hell and 
damnation /' and then expired. 



SEC. IV. ! THE DYING INFIDEL, 533 



4. SERVIN. 

The account which the celebrated Sully gives us of 
young Servin is uncommon. " The beginning of June, 
1623," says he, " I set out for Calais, where I was to 
embark, having with me a retinue of upwards of two 
hundred gentlemen, or who called themselves such, of 
whom a considerable number were really of the first dis- 
tinction. Just before my departure, old Servin came 
and presented his son to me, and begged I would use 
my endeavours to make him a man of some w orth and 
honesty ; but he confessed he dared not hope, not through 
any want of understanding or capacity in the young 
man, but from his natural inclination to all kinds of vice. 
I found him to be at once both a wonder and a monster ; 
I can give no other idea of that assemblage of the most 
excellent and most pernicious qualities. Let the reader 
represent to himself a man of genius so lovely, and an 
understanding so extensive, as rendered him scarce igno- 
rant of anything that could be known ; of so vast and 
ready a comprehension, that he immediately made him- 
self master of what he attempted ; and of so prodigious 
a memory, that he never forgot what he had once learned ; 
he possessed all parts of philosophy and the mathe- 
matics, particularly fortification and drawing; even in 
theology he was so well skilled, that he was an excellent 
preacher whenever he had a mind to exert that talent, 
and an able disputant for and against the reformed re- 
ligion indifferently; he not only understood Greek, 
Hebrew, and all the languages which we call learned, 
but also the different jargons or modern dialects; he ac- 
cented and pronounced them so naturally, and so per- 
fectly imitated the gestures and manners both of the 
several nations of Europe, and the particular provinces 



534 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

of France, that he might have been taken for a native 
of all or any of these countries ; and this quality he ap- 
plied to counterfeit all sorts of persons, wherein he suc- 
ceeded wonderfully ; he was moreover the best comedian 
and greatest droll that perhaps ever appeared ; he had a 
genius for poetry, and had written many verses ; he 
played upon almost all instruments, w T as a perfect mas- 
ter of music, and sung most agreeably and justly; he 
was of a disposition to do, as well as to know, all things ; 
his body was perfectly well suited to his mind — he was 
light, nimble, dexterous, and fit for all exercises; he 
could ride well, and in dancing, wrestling, and leaping, 
he was admired ; there are not any recreative games that 
he did not know ; and he was skilled in almost all the 
mechanic arts. But now for the reverse of the medal : 
here it appeared that he was treacherous, cruel, cowardly, 
deceitful ; a liar, a cheat, a drunkard, and a glutton ; a 
sharper in play, immersed in every species of vice, a 
blasphemer, an atheist ; in a word, in him might be found 
all the vices contrary to nature, honour, religion, and so- 
ciety; the truth of which he himself evinced with his 
latest breath, for he died in the flower of his age, in a 
common brothel, perfectly corrupted by his debaucheries, 
and expired with a glass in his hand, cursing and deny- 
ing God." 

It is evident from this extraordinary case, that " with 
the talents of an angel a man may be a fool." There is 
no necessary connexion between great natural abilities 
and religious qualifications. They may go together, but 
they are frequently found asunder. 



SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 535 



5. EDWARD GIBBON. 

Edward Gibbon, the celebrated author of the history 
of the " Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," is well 
known to have been what is termed a philosopher and 
an infidel. 

He was born in 1737. In early life he became a 
papist ; he afterward renounced popery, and seems to 
have paid little attention to religion in any form ; nor 
does it appear that he ever made it a matter of serious 
thought or inquiry. In his memoirs he has unde- 
signedly presented a striking view of the cheerless na- 
ture of infidelity. " The present is a fleeting moment — 
the past is no more — and our prospect of futurity dark 
and doubtful. This day may possibly be my last, but 
the laws of probability — so true in general, so fallacious 
in particular — still allow about fifteen years. I shall 
soon enter into the period, which, as the most agreeable 
of his long life, was selected by the judgment and ex- 
perience of the sage Fontenelle. His choice is approved 
by the eloquent historian of nature, who fixes our moral 
happiness to the mature season in which our passions 
are supposed to be calmed, our duties fulfilled, our am- 
bition satisfied, our fame and fortune established on a 
solid basis. In private conversation, that great and 
amiable man added the weight of his own experience ; 
and this autumnal felicity might be exemplified in the 
lives of Voltaire, Hume, and many other men of letters. 
I am far more inclined to embrace than to dispute this 
comfortable doctrine. I will not suppose any premature 
decay of mind or body; but I must reluctantly observe, 
that two causes, the abbreviation of time and the failure 
of hope, will always tinge with a browner shade the 
evening of life." 



536 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

At another time, alluding to the death of a friend 
whose excellencies he had mentioned, he wrote, " All 
this is now lost, fi?ially. irrecoverably lost ! I will agree, 
that the immortality of the soul is, at some times, a very 
comfortable doctrine." 

Having no hope for eternity, he was eager for the con- 
tinuation of his present existence; he declared to a 
friend, about twenty-four hours previous to his depar- 
ture, in a flow of self-gratulation, that he thought him- 
self a good life for ten, twelve, or perhaps twenty years. 
During his short illness, he never gave the least intima- 
tion of a future state of existence. This insensibility at 
the hour of dissolution, is, in the language of scepticism, 
"dying the death of a philosopher !" 



6. HOBBES. 

Hobbes was a well-known infidel, a century and a half 
ago. When alone, he was haunted with the most tor- 
menting reflections, and would awake in great terror, if 
bis candle happened but to go out in the night. He 
could never bear any discourse of death, and seemed to 
cut off all thoughts of it. 

Dr. Wallis relates of him, that discoursing one day 
with a lady in high life, Hobbes told her, " That were he 
the master of the world, he would give it all to live one 
day longer." She expressed her astonishment, that a 
philosopher who had such extensive knowledge, and so 
many friends to gratify and oblige, would not deny him- 
self one day's gratification of life, if by that means he 
could bequeath to them such ample possessions. His 
answer was, " What shall I be the better for that, when 
I am dead ? I say again, if I had the whole world to 
dispose of, I would give it to live one day." How dif- 
ferent is the language of the real Christian ! " Having 



SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 537 

a desire to depart and to be with Christ, which is far 
better," — far better than the highest enjoyments that 
can be attained in this world. 

He lived to be upwards of ninety. His last sensible 
words were, when he found he could live no longer, "1 
shall be glad then to find a hole to creep out of the world 
at." And, notwithstanding all his high pretensions to 
learning and philosophy, his uneasiness constrained him 
to confess, when he drew near to the grave, that "he was 
about to take a leap in the dark." 



7. DIDEROT. 

Diderot avowed himself an atheist, and declared that 
he gloried in so doing. He was a man of high talent and 
large information, though his personal character was 
odious. Sir W. Jones, who knew him at Paris, shrank 
in disgust from his vices ; and some of his works are 
characterized in " La Biographie Universelle" as "a 
collection of all indecorum." Confined, for his writings, 
in the castle of Vincennes, he became almost distracted. 
When death drew near, he sent for a priest, and prepared 
to make a recantation of his opinions. His friends, how- 
ever, smuggled him away into the country, where he 
died concealed. 



8. D'ALEMBERT. 

D' Alembert was the head of the Encyclopaedists. He 
is said to have been sceptical in everything but mathe- 
matics, though less offensive in his writings than the rest. 
When he was dying, Condorcet ran to the door, and 
barred it against all entrance, saying afterwards, " If I 
had not been there, he would have flinched too." 

23* 



538 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 



m 9. MADAME DXJ DEFFANT. 

Madame du Deffant was conspicuous in the gay cir- 
cles of France, before the period of the first French 
Revolution. She bore a high character as a bel- esprit, 
and was distinguished for wit, whim, and talent. Yet, 
though the object of constant attention and flattery, she 
was the victim of ennui, and fatigued her friends by com- 
plaining of life as an intolerable burden. In the esti- 
mation of her most familiar acquaintance, this tedium 
was occasioned by her complete dissatisfaction with all 
the objects for which she had lived, and by her igno- 
rance of the truths which alone can, in any case, render 
life dignified, and the prospect of death tolerable. In 
a letter to Horace Walpole, dictated in advanced life, she 
thus describes her dismal and dreary sensations : — 

" Tell me why, detesting life, I yet dread to die; no- 
thing convinces me that anything will survive myself; 
on the contrary, I perceive the dissolution of my mind 
a3 well as that of my body. All that is said on the one 
side or the other makes no impression upon me ; 1 only 
listen to my own sensations, and I find only doubt and 
obscurity. ' Believe,' I am told, ' that is the safest way ;' 
but how can I believe that which I do not understand ? 
. . . If I am not pleased with others, I am still less 
so with myself. I have more difficulty in enduring my- 
self than any one besides." 

This state of mind was what might have been antici- 
pated from the society in which she had, during life, de- 
lighted; that, namely, of Voltaire, Grimm, Hume, and 
the rest of the " philosophers." Her melancholy end 
was in precise accordance with the tenor of her life. 
Death seized her whilst in the act of playing at cards, in 
the midst of a circle of her gay and thoughtless friends. 



SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 539 

So little concerned was the rest of the party at the 
solemn event which had just occurred, and so destitute 
of all human sensibility, with a hardened indifference 
rarely to be equalled, played out their game before they 
gave the alarm ! 



10. A DYING INFIDEL. 

A certain individual who resided not far from Dudley, 
in Worcestershire, was for some years a steady and re- 
spectable professor of Christianity. During this time, 
he was a good father, a good neighbour, and a loyal sub- 
ject. A wicked man, however, put into his hands Paine' s 
"Age of Reason," and Volney's "Ruins of Empires." 
He read these pernicious books, renounced Christianity, 
and became a bad father, a bad neighbour, a disloyal 
subject, and a ferocious infidel ! At length, sickness 
seized him, and death stared him in the face. Before 
the period of his dissolution, some Christian friends, 
who had formerly united with him in the sweet duties 
of devotion, resolved, if possible, to obtain access to him. 
With much difficulty they accomplished their object. 
They found him in a most deplorable state. Horror was 
depicted on his countenance, and he seemed determined 
not to be comforted. They spoke to him, in a suitable 
manner, respecting the Lord Jesus Christ and salvation. 
But he replied with fury, " It is too late ; I have tram- 
pled on his blood /" They offered to pray with him ; 
but he swore they should not. However, they kneeled 
down and presented their supplications to God in his 
behalf. And while, in this humble posture, they were 
pleading the merits of Jesus, the poor miserable infidel 
actually cursed God and died ! 



540 



DEATH-BED SCENES. 



[PART II. 



11. ALTAMONT. 



" But that I am forbid 
To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy warm blood ; 
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ; 
Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 
And each particular hair to stand on end, 
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : 
But this eternal blazon must not be 
To ears of flesh and blood !" — Shakspeare. 

The late Dr. Young, in an account of the last hours of 
a young man of rank and talents, whom he denominates 
Altamont, has described one of the most affecting death- 
bed scenes that ever was beheld : — 

" The sad evening before the death of the noble Alta- 
mont, I was with him. No one was there but his phy- 
sician, and an intimate friend whom he loved, and whom 
he had ruined. At my coming in he said : ' You and the 
physician are come too late. I have neither life nor 
hope. You both aim at miracles. You would raise the 
dead !' Heaven, I said, was merciful. ' Or I could not 
have been thus guilty. What has it not done to bless 
and to save me ? 1 have been too strong for Omnipo- 
tence ! I plucked down ruin !' I said, the blessed Re- 
deemer — ' Hold ! hold ! You wound me ! This is the 
rock on which 1 split — I denied his name.' 

" Refusing to hear anything from me, or to take any- 
thing from the physician, he lay silent as far as sudden 
darts of pain would permit, till the clock struck. Then 
with vehemence; ' time! time! it is fit thou shouldst 
thus strike thy murderer to the heart. How art thou fled 
forever ! A month ! for a single week ! I ask not for 
years ; though an age were too little for the much I have 



SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 541 

to do.' On my saying we could not do too much; that 
heaven was a blessed place — ' So much the worse. 'T is 
lost ! 't is lost ! Heaven is to me the severest part of 
hell !' Soon after I proposed prayer. ' Pray you that 
can. I never prayed. I cannot pray — nor need I. Is 
not heaven on my side already ? It closes with my con- 
science. Its severest strokes but second my own.' 

" His friend being much touched, even to tears, at this, 
(who could forbear? I could not,) with a most affec- 
tionate look he said : ' Keep those tears for thyself. I 
have undone thee. Dost weep for me? That's cruel. 
What can pain me more ?' 

" Here his friend, too much affected, would have left 
him : ' No, stay, thou still mayest hope. Therefore hear 
me. How madly have I talked ! How madly hast thou 
listened and believed ! But look on my present state, 
as a full answer to thee, and to myself. This body is 
all weakness and pain : but my soul, as if stung up by 
torment to greater strength and spirit, is full powerful to 
reason, full mighty to suffer. And that which thus tri- 
umphs within the jaws of mortality, is, doubtless, im- 
mortal. And, as for a Deity, nothing less than an Al- 
mighty could inflict what I now feel.' 

"I was about to congratulate this passive involuntary 
confessor, on his asserting two prime articles of his creed, 
extorted by the rack of nature ; when he passionately 
exclaimed : ' No, no ! let me speak on. I have not long 
to speak. My much-injured friend! my soul, as my 
body, lies in ruin — in scattered fragments of broken 
thought. Remorse for the past, throws my thoughts on 
the future ; worse dread of the future, strikes them back 
on the past. I turn, and turn, and find no ray. Didst 
thou feel half the mountain that is on me, thou wouldst 
struggle with the martyr for his stake, and bless heaven 
for the flame : that is not an everlasting flame ; that is 
not an unquenchable fire.' 



542 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

" How were we struck ? Yet, soon after, still more. 
With what an eye of distraction, what a face of despair, 
he cried out, ' My principles have poisoned my friend ; 
my extravagance has beggared my boy ; my unkindness 
has murdered my wife ! And is there another hell ? 
! thou blasphemed, yet most indulgent, Lord God ! 
Hell itself is a refuge, if it hide me from thy frown.' 

" Soon after, his understanding failed. His terrified 
imagination uttered horrors not to be repeated, or ever 
forgot. And ere the sun arose, the gay, young, noble, 
ingenuous, accomplished, and most wretched Altamont, 
expired." 



2. ANTITHEUS 

Mr. Cumberland, in the " Observer," gives us one of the 
most mournful tales that ever was related, concerning a 
gentleman of infidel principles, whom he denominates 
Antitheus. 

" I remember him," says he, " in the height of his 
fame, the hero of his party ; no man so caressed, followed, 
and applauded ; he was a little loose, his friends would 
own, in his moral character, but then he was the most 
honest fellow in the world ; it was not to be denied that 
he was rather free in his notions, but then he was the 
best creature living. I have seen men of the gravest 
character wink at his sallies, because he was so pleasant 
and so well-bred, it was impossible to be angry with him. 
Everything went well with him, and Antitheus seemed 
to be at the summit of human prosperity, when he was 
suddenly seized with the most alarming symptoms : he 
was at his country-house, and (which had rarely hap- 
pened to him) he at that time chanced to be alone ; wife 
or family he had none, and out of the multitude of his 
friends no one happened to be near him at the moment 



SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 543 

of his attack. A neighbouring physician was called out 
of bed in the night to come to him with all haste in this 
extremity : he found him sitting up in his bed, supported 
by pillows, his countenance full of horror, his breath 
struggling as in the article of death, his pulse intermit- 
ting, and at times beating with such rapidity as could 
hardly be counted. Antitheus dismissed the attendants 
he had about him, and eagerly demanded of the phy- 
sician, if he thought him in danger. The physician an- 
swered that he must fairly tell him he was in imminent 
danger. 

" ' How so ! how so ! Do you think me dying?' 
" ' He was sorry to say the symptoms indicated death.' 
" 'Impossible! you must not let me die: I dare not 
die : doctor ! save me if you can.' 

" \ Your situation, sir, is such, that it is not in mine, 
nor any other man's art to save you; and I think I 
should not do my duty if 1 gave you any false hopes in 
these moments, which, if I am not mistaken, will not 
more than suffice for any worldly or other concerns which 
you may have upon your mind to settle.' 

" ' My mind is full of horror,' cried the dying man, 
' and I am incapable of preparing it for death.' 

."He. now fell into an agony, accompanied with a 
shower of tears ; a cordial was administered, and he re- 
vived in a degree ; when, turning fco the physician, who 
had his fingers upon his pulse, he eagerly demanded of 
him, if he did not see that blood upon the feet-curtains 
of his bed. There was none to be seen : the physician 
assured him, it was nothing but a vapour of his fancy. 
'I see it plainly,' said Antitheus, 'in the shape of a 
human hand: I have been visited with a tremendous 
apparition. As I was lying sleepless in my bed this 
night, I took up a letter of a deceased friend to dissipate 
certain thoughts that made me uneasy : I believed him 
to be a great philosopher, and was converted to his 



544 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

opinions ; persuaded by his arguments and my own ex- 
perience, that the disorderly affairs of this evil world 
could not be administered by any wise, just, or provi- 
dent being, I had brought myself to think no such being 
could exist, and that a life, produced by chance, must 
terminate in annihilation : this is the reasoning of that 
letter, and such were the thoughts I was revolving in my 
mind, when the apparition of my dear friend presented 
itself before me ; and unfolding the curtains of my bed, 
stood at my feet, looking earnestly upon me for a con- 
siderable space of time. My heart sunk w T ithin me ; for 
his face was ghastly, full of horror, with an expression 
of such anguish as I can never describe ; his eyes were 
fixed upon me, and at length, with a mournful motion of 
his head — " Alas, alas !" he cried, " we are in a fatal 
error !" and taking hold of the curtains with his hand, 
shook them violently, and disappeared. This, I protest 
to you, I both saw and heard; and look! where the 
print of his hand is left in blood upon the curtains !' " 

Antitheus survived the relation of this vision very few 
hours, and died delirious in great agonies. 

What a forsaken and disconsolate creature is man 
without his God and Saviour ! 



13. LORD P- 



" To die ! to sleep !— 
To sleep ! perchance to dream ! ay, there 's the rub ; 
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
Must give us pause !" 

The case of Lord P is detailed by Mr. Simpson in 

his " Plea." He was an apostate, a deist, and a mocker 
of religion. On his dying bed his conscience was over- 
whelmed with horror at what he had done. In this 



SEC. IV.] THE DYING INFIDEL. 545 

agony of mind he called to a person to " go and bring 
that cursed book''' meaning the work by which he had 
been seduced into Deism — " I cannot die until I de- 
stroy it." 

It was put into his hands. With mingled horror and 
revenge he tore it into pieces, hurled it into the flames, 
and soon after died in great horrors. 



546 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

SECTION V. 

Jn0£tt0tbUitti m tf)e $omr of $mtl). 

1. DAVID HUME. 

It is an awful proof of the depraved condition of human 
nature, that so many persons exert their utmost efforts 
to sink themselves to a level with the brutes that perish, 
and to strip themselves of man's distinguishing honour 
— immortality. Infidels at the same time soar with the 
pride of Satan and grovel with the reptile of the dust. 
Now they exalt man so high that he needs not the in- 
struction or care of the Deity, but soon they debase him 
to an equality with the w T orm, while they maintain that 
like the worm he dies and is no more. 

Mr. Hume appears in one respect to have differed 
from most infidels. His life was tolerably moral. This 
has been a subject of boasting among his unbelieving 
friends, but it has been most justly remarked, " All evil 
beings are not immoral." Satan himself " offends not 
in the articles of eating, w T ine, or women ;" he is differ- 
ently employed. He is employed in tempting others to 
offend. 

" The matter of fact is : that life cannot be in the 
right, which is spent in doing ivrong. And if to ques- 
tion all the doctrines of religion, even to the providence 
and existence of a Grod, and to put morality on no other 
foot than that of utility — if to do this be not to do wrong, 
then farewell all distinction between right and wrong for- 
ever more. To maintain and diffuse the truth of God, 
is to do his will ; to deny, corrupt, or hinder it, is to 
work iniquity ; and a life so employed is a wicked life 
— perhaps the most wicked that can be imagined. For 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 547 

what comparison is there between one who commits a 
crime of which he may repent, or, at worst, it may die 
with him ; and one who, though he do not himself com- 
mit it, teaches and encourages all the world to commit 
it, by removing out of the way the strongest sanctions 
and obligations to the contrary, in writings which may 
carry on the fearful work from generation to genera- 
tion?" 

As he lived and taught like a philosopher, so, Mr. 
Gibbon says, he died like one. His death has been the 
boast of infidels. " It may be taken as their apostolic 
specimen, standing parallel in their history, to the in- 
stance of St. Paul in the records of Christianity, ' I have 
fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have 
kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a 
crown of righteousness, which the Lord the righteous 
judge shall give me at that day.' " 

We are informed, that when he was extremely debili- 
tated by disease, he went abroad at times in a sedan 
chair, and called on his friends ; but his ghastly looks 
indicated the rapid approach of death. He diverted 
himself with correcting his works for a new edition, with 
reading books of amusement, with the conversation of 
his friends, and sometimes in the evening with a party at 
his favourite game of whist. 

On one occasion, when his dissolution drew near, he 
expressed to Dr. Smith the satisfaction he had in leav- 
ing his friends, and his brother's family in particular, in 
prosperous circumstances. This, he said, he felt so 
sensibly, that when he was reading, a few days before, 
" Lucian's Dialogues of the Dead," he could not, among 
all the excuses which are alleged to Charon,* for not 
readily entering into his boat, find one that fitted him. 

Charon, in the old heathen tales, is said to have ferried de- 
parted souls over the river Styx, in their way to Elysium or Tar- 
tarus. 



548 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

He had no house to finish,— he had no daughter to pro- 
vide for, — he had no enemies upon whom he wished to 
revenge himself. " I could not well imagine," said he, 
" what excuse I could make to Charon, in order to ob- 
tain a little delay. I have done everything of conse- 
quence which I ever meant to do. I could at no time 
expect to leave my relations and friends in a better 
situation than that in which I am now likely to leave 
them. 1 therefore have all reason to die contented." 

" He then diverted himself," says Dr. Smith, " with 
inventing several jocular excuses, which he supposed he 
might make to Charon, and in imagining the very surly 
answers, which it might suit the character of Charon to 
return to them." 

" Upon consideration," said he, " I thought 1 might 
say to him, ' Good Charon, I have been correcting my 
works for a new edition. Allow me a little time, that I 
may see how the public receives the alterations.' But 
Charon w y ould answer, ' When you see the effect of these, 
you will be for making other alterations. There will be 
no end to such excuses ; so, honest friend, please to step 
into the boat.' 

" But I might still urge, • Have a little patience, good 
Charon ; I have been endeavouring to open the eyes of 
the public ; if I live a few years longer, I may have the 
satisfaction of seeing the downfall of some of the prevail- 
ing systems of superstition.' But Charon would then 
lose all patience and decency : ' You loitering rogue, 
that will not happen these many* hundred years. Do 
you fancy I will grant you a lease for so long a term ? 
Get into the boat this instant, you lazy loitering 
rogue !' " 

He died soon after ; and this was dying like a philoso- 
pher. Here the triumphs of infidelity are seen ; glorious 
triumphs for a philosopher, a son of reason ! Ah ! if we 
had not learned that the philosophy of such men is the 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 549 

foolishness of folly, we might have felt surprised to see 
a man of sense, at any time of life, amusing himself with 
the ridiculous heathen story of Charon and his boat. 
But as such men love darkness rather than light, so it is 
a self-evident proposition, that they prefer the most de- 
basing folly to the most elevating wisdom, when they 
prefer this absurd tale to the glorious prospects of im- 
mortality. Compare Hume, dying and jesting about 
Charon and his boat, and the Christian, expiring with 
expressions of praise and gratitude to God, and of con- 
fidence in his obtaining eternal life through the merits 
of his Saviour, and then say, Is the difference between 
hell and heaven wider than that between the dying phi- 
losopher and the dying believer ! 

In the miserable deaths of Voltaire, and Thomas 
Paine, some of the horrors of infidelity are seen, but the 
hardened stupidity of Hume, gives as awful a view of its 
dreadful influence. 

Some observations that other writers have made on 
this subject, are so excellent that they are inserted here. 
Bishop Home, in his letter to Dr. Adam Smith, Hume's 
encomiast, says, " Are you sure, and can you make us 
sure, that there really exists no such thing as a God, 
and a future state of reward and punishment ? If so, all 
is well. Let us then, in our last hours, read Lucian, 
and play at whist, and droll upon Charon and his boat ; 
let us die as foolish and insensible, as much like our 
brother philosophers, the calves of the field, and the asses 
of the desert, as we can for the life of us. But, if such 
things be — as they most certainly are — is it right in you, 
sir, to hold up to our view, as 'perfectly wise and virtu- 
ous,' the character and conduct of one, who seems to 
have been possessed with an incurable antipathy to all 
that is called religion ? 

" You would persuade us, by the example of David 
Hume, Esq., that atheism is the only cordial for low 



550 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

spirits, and the proper antidote against the fear of death. 
But surely, he who can reflect, -with complacency, on a 
friend thus misemploying his talents in his life, and then 
amusing himself with Lucian, whist, and Charon, at his 
death, may smile over Babylon in ruins, esteem the 
earthquake which destroyed Lisbon, an agreeable occur- 
rence, and congratulate the hardened Pharaoh, on his 
overthrow in the Red Sea. Drollery, in such circum- 
stances, is neither more nor less than 

Moody madness, laughing wild, 
Amid severest woe. 

Would we know the baneful and pestilential influences 
of false philosophy on the human heart, we need only 
contemplate them in this most deplorable instance of 
Mr. Hume." 

Another writer observes, " The jocularity of the phi- 
losopher was contrary to good taste. To be in harmony 
with his situation, in his own view of that situation, the 
expressions of the dying philosopher were required to be 
dignified. It is true, that good men of a high order, 
have been known to utter pleasantries in their last hours. 
But these have been pleasantries of a fine etherial qual- 
ity. These had no resemblance to the low and laboured 
jokes of our philosopher — jokes, so laboured as to give 
strong cause for suspicion, after all, that they were of 
the same nature, and for the same purpose, as the ex- 
pedient of a boy, on passing through some gloomy place 
in the night, who whistles to lessen his fear, or to per- 
suade his companions that he does not feel it. 

" Such a manner of meeting death was inconsistent 
with the scepticism, to which Hume was always found to 
avow his adherence. For that scepticism necessarily 
acknowledged a possibility and chance, that the religion 
which he had scorned might be found true, and might, in 
the moment after his death, glare upon him with all its 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 551 

terror. But how dreadful to such a reflecting mind, 
would have been the smallest chance of meeting such a 
vision! Yet our philosopher could be cracking his 
heavy jokes, and Dr. Smith could be much diverted at 
the sport. 

" To a man who solemnly believes the truth of revela- 
tion, and therefore the threatenings of Divine vengeance 
against the despisers of it, this scene will present as 
mournful a spectacle, as, perhaps, the sun ever shone 
upon. We have beheld a man of great talents, and in- 
vincible perseverance, entering on his career with the 
profession of an impartial inquiry after truth, met at 
every stage and step by the evidences and expostula- 
tions of religion, and the claims of his Creator, but de- 
voting his labours to the pursuit of fame, and the pro- 
motion of impiety. We behold him appointed soon to 
appear before that Judge to whom he had never alluded, 
but with entire malice and contempt ; yet preserving, to 
appearance, an entire self-complacency, idly jesting 
about his approaching dissolution, and mingling with 
these insane sports, his reference to the fall of ' super- 
stition,' a term, of which the meaning is hardly ever 
dubious, when expressed by such men. We behold 
him at last carried off, and we seem to hear, the next 
moment, from the darkness in which he vanishes, the 
shriek of surprise and terror, and the overpowering ac- 
cents of the messenger of vengeance. On the whole 
globe there probably was not acting, at the time, so 
mournful a tragedy as that, of which the friends of 
Hume were the spectators, without being aware that it 
was any tragedy at all." — Eclectic Review, 1808. 



552 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 



2. ROUSSEAU. 

J. J. Rousseau was one of the philosophers of the last 
century, and was honoured by the infidels of France 
with the second place in their Pantheon. His life was 
a life of crime ; and considering this, his death w T as one 
of the most awful imaginable. The following brief 
sketch, drawn mainly from his own account of himself, 
may show what he was. 

After a good education, in the Protestant religion, he 
was put apprentice. Finding his situation disagreeable 
to him, he felt a strong propensity to vice ; inclining him 
to covet, dissemble, lie, and at length to steal — a pro- 
pensity of which he w r as never able afterward to divest 
himself. "I have been a rogue," says he, " and am so 
still sometimes, for trifles which I had rather take than 
ask for." 

He abjured the Protestant religion, and entered the 
hospital of the Catechumens at Turin, to be instructed 
in that of the Catholics : " For which in return," says 
he, "I was to receive subsistence. From this interested 
conversion," he adds, "nothing remained but the re- 
membrance of my having been both a dupe and an 
apostate." 

After this he resided with a Madame de Warrens, 
with whom " he lived in the greatest possible famil- 
iarity." She was a very good Catholic, or pretended at 
least to be one, and certainly desired to be such. If 
there had been no Christian morality established, Rous- 
seau supposes she would have lived as though regulated 
by its principles. All her morality, however, was sub- 
ordinate to the principles of Mr. Tavel, who first seduced 
her to adultery by urging, in effect, that exposure was 
the only crime. "Finding in her," he says, "all those 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 553 

ideas I had occasion for to secure me from the fears of 
death, and its future consequences, I drew confidence 
and security from this source." 

The writings of Port Royal, and those of the Oratory, 
made him half a Jansenist ; and notwithstanding all his 
confidence, their harsh theory sometimes alarmed him. 
A dread of hell, which till then he had never much ap- 
prehended, by little and little disturbed his security, 
and had not Madame de Warrens tranquillized his soul, 
would at length have been too much for him. His con- 
fessor also, a Jesuit, contributed all in his power to keep 
up his hopes. 

After this he became familiar with another female, 
Theresa. He began by declaring to her that he would 
never either abandon, or marry her. Finding her preg- 
nant with her first child, and hearing it observed in an 
eating-house, that he who had best filled the Foundling 
Hospital was always the most applauded, " I said to my- 
self," quoth he, " since it is the custom of the country, 
they who live here may adopt it." And he did adopt it, 
and relieved himself of the burden of no less than three 
illegitimate children by placing them in the Foundling 
Hospital. 

After passing twenty years with Theresa, he made 
her his wife. He appears to have intrigued with a 

Madame de H . Of his desires after that lady he 

says, " Guilty without remorse, 1 soon became so with- 
out measure." 

Such, according to his own account, was the life of 
uprightness and honour which was to expiate for a theft 
which he had committed when a young man, and laid it 
to a female servant; by which she lost her place and 
character. 

After giving an account of a life thus atrocious, he 
says, " Whenever the last trumpet shall sound, I will 
present mvself before the Sovereign Judge, with this 

24 



554 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

book in my hand, and loudly proclaim, Thus have I 
acted — these were my thoughts — such was I. Power 
Eternal! Assemble round thy throne the innumerable 
throng of my fellow mortals. Let them listen to my 
confessions ; let them blush at my depravity ; let them 
tremble at my sufferings; let each in his turn expose, 
with equal sincerity, the failings, the wanderings of his 
heart, and, if he dare, aver, I was better than that man." 

The death of this strange man was like his life ; he 
died with a horrid lie on his lips, accompanied by the 
most impious appeal that man could make. 

" Ah ! my dear," said he to his wife, just before he 
expired, " how happy a thing it is to die, when one has 
no reason for remorse, or self-reproach !" And then, 
addressing himself to the Almighty, he said, " Eternal 
Being ! the soul that I am going to give thee back, is as 
pure, at this moment, as it was when it proceeded from 
thee : render it partaker of thy felicity." 



3. HORACE WALPOLE. 

Horace Walpole was in his day "the glass of fashion, 
and the mould of form," valuable for little besides his 
epistolary style, in the material in which his own no- 
thingness is enclosed, as in amber, till it has acquired a 
certain conventional value. Kank, fortune, humour, 
were all his own ; yet he lived for few things which were 
not frivolous, and maintained the contemptible character 
of a male gossip. What his thoughts of death were, the 
following passage from his letters will demonstrate : — 

" 1 am tired of the world, its politics, its pursuits, and 
its pleasures ; but it will cost me some struggles before 
I submit to be tender and careful. Christ ! can I ever 
submit to the regimen of old age? I do not wish to 
dress up a withered person, nor drag it about to public 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 555 

places ; but to sit in one's room, clothed warmly, expect- 
ing visits from folks I do not wish to see, and tended and 
flattered by relations impatient for one's death ! Let the 
gout do its worst as expeditiously as it can ; it would be 
more welcome in my stomach than in my limbs." 

His letters, written at the end of life, some of which 
were to Miss Hannah More, show that, though occa- 
sionally much disgusted at life, religion exerted no in- 
fluence whatever. Indeed, even in writing to that lady, 
he omitted no opportunity of satirizing both piety and 
its followers. Yet he confessed himself a disappointed 
man, though he could not forbear to jest at his own ap- 
proaching dissolution. Living and dying, he was the 
same heartless and selfish voluptuary. " I shall be quite 
content," he writes, " with a sprig of rosemary,* thrown 
after me, when the parson of the parish commits my 
dust to dust !" 



4. FREDERIC OF PRUSSIA. 

"Frederic of Prussia, died," says Zimmerman, "in a 
continued disbelief of revelation, and of the immortality 
of the soul." His will provided that his body should be 
buried near his dogs in his garden. 



5. CARDINAL MAZARINE. 

" Give what thou wilt, without thee we are poor, 
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away." 

The minority and early days of Louis XIV., bore wit- 
ness to the extensive power of Cardinal Mazarine. As 
a mere politician — regarding that character as unin- 

* The symbolical language of the rosemary is remembrance ; 
"I'll remember thee." Sprigs of it were often thrown upon the 
coffin when it had been lowered into the tomb or grave. 



556 DEATH-BED SCENES* [PART II. 

fluenced by high and noble motives — he possessed great 
abilities. Death reached him in the zenith of his 
power ; and, when his political ambition seemed to have 
grasped all which it desired, when consulted upon his 
case, Guenard, his physician, told him that it was only 
possible for him to live two months longer. He alone, 
whose whole heart and soul have been absorbed by the 
world, can imagine the despair with which Mazarine re- 
ceived the announcement. A few days after the sen- 
tence, he was observed to drag himself in his night-cap 
and gown along the gallery of his palace, and to mutter, 
as he looked at the splendid collection of pictures his 
wealth had amassed, " Must I quit all these ?"* Per- 
ceiving Brienne, his attendant, from whom the account is 
derived, he broke out, "Look at that Corregio ! — this Ve- 
nus of Titian ! — that matchless Deluge of Caracci ! Ah, 
my friend, I must quit them all ! Farewell, dear pictures, 
that 1 loved so dearly, and that have cost me so much !" 
At another time, whilst in his easy chair, he was heard 
to murmur, " Guenard has said it — Guenard has said 
it." One of his last amusements was cards, which were 
held for him by another, as his enfeebled hands refused 
to perform their office. When the time of his death 
drew near, be became most restless and uneasy, and was 
heard to say, with tears, " 0, my poor soul! What will 
become of thee? Whither wilt thou go?" To the 
queen-dowager of France, he said, " Madam, your fa- 
vours have undone me ; were I to live again, I would be 
a monk rather than a courtier." His last hours were, 
however, marked by greater firmness. On the 7th of 
March, 1661, he received extreme unction, and took 

° This passage will recall to the minds of many readers, John- 
son's exclamation to Garrick, when the latter was showing to him 
the objects of taste with which his villa at Twickenham was 
beautified, — " Ah, David, David, these are the things that make a 
death-bed hard !" 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 557 

leave of the king and royal family. After this, he as- 
sembled his household, begged their pardon for his faults 
with a great appearance of humility, and employed him- 
self during the rest of the day in religious devotion. 
Yet, though in his interview with the prince of Conde, 
whose mortal enemy he had been, he expressed himself 
with apparent freedom and affection, that prince after- 
ward discovered that he had not uttered a word of truth. 
He ordered himself, though dying, to be rouged and 
dressed, and then taken once more into public, that he 
might receive the hypocritical compliments of his cour- 
tiers on his apparent recovery. Some of his last words 
expressed his conviction that his physicians had not un- 
derstood his case, and he was heard to say, " They have 
killed me." The day he died, one of them having 
brought to him nourishment, he fixed his eyes upon him 
with an intent and piercing expression, as if he suspected 
him of having hastened his end ; and his last confession 
was, that he had sinfully murmured against the means 
adopted for his cure. Such was the miserable end of 
one who had subjugated France to his will, and appeared, 
after many tremendous struggles, superior to all his 
enemies. Will earthly possessions satisfy ? 



6. LORD BYRON. 

° The bed, where parting life was laid, 
And sorrow, guilt, and pains, by turns dismay'd." — Goldsmith. 

The name of Lord Byron is as familiar as its associa- 
tions are melancholy. His history was throughout pe- 
culiar, and its contrasts hideous. He had rank and 
genius ; the latter was of a noble order, and was power- 
ful alike in description and in passion, in pathos and in 
satire. His fame was sudden and resplendent ; and al- 
though taste has already abated somewhat of its lustre, 



558 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

it was not in the main deceptive. The circumstances 
of his early life might claim our pity, if pity were not 
overpowered by the strong moral reprobation demanded 
by his deliberate errors. Irregular and petulant as a 
boy ; debauched and outrageous as a youth ; entering 
upon life with every accompaniment of riot on the one 
hand, and sad disappointment on the other ; contracting 
marriage with as heartless a selfishness as ever disgraced 
humanity, and surrounded after it by all the irregulari- 
ties of vice and entanglement — the age of thirty saw 
him, " with all his household gods shivered around him ;" 
separated from his wife — self-divorced from his country 
— a " Prometheus," (to use his own title,) with all the 
vultures of conscience let loose upon his soul. His 
genius, which, properly nurtured, might have illuminated 
mankind, flared with a self- consuming fire. In the tri- 
umphs of his first success, he wrung from an admiring 
public, as piece after piece appeared, tributes of admira- 
tion never equalled ; yet he ended his career by making 
his high powers instruments of the most bitter infidelity, 
the most caustic malice, and the most self- degrading 
buffoonery. 

His death was doubtless, in its remote cause, produced 
by habits of intoxication freely indulged, and by the 
otherwise severe regimen he instituted to preserve his 
Apollo-like beauty. Self-will had been the leading im- 
pulse of his life, and was his ruling passion at the last. 
He had been exposed after a debauch to inclement 
weather, and was overtaken by dangerous sickness. 
No persuasion could induce him to submit to the neces- 
sary remedies. In vain was early bleeding urged upon 
him ; he persisted in his resistance to the remedy till 
it was too late. He died at Missolonghi, in Greece, 
April 19th, 1824. 

" It is with infinite pain," says one of his physicians, 
" I must state, that though I seldom left Lord Byron's 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUB OF DEATH. 559 

pillow during the latter part of his illness, I did not hear 
him make any, even the smallest, mention of religion. 
At one moment, I heard him say, ' Shall I sue for 
mercy V After a long pause, he added, ' Come, come, 
no weakness ; let 's be a man to the last !' " 



7. ROBERT BURNS. 

The death- scene of Robert Burns was melancholy in- 
deed. " I was struck," says a lady, in a confidential 
letter to a friend, " with his appearance on entering the 
room. The stamp of death was imprinted on his fea- 
tures. He seemed already touching the brink of eternity. 
His first salutation was, ' Well, madam, have you any 
commands for another world?' " 



8. MIRABEATL 

Gabriel Honore de Riquetti, Count of Mirabeau, 
drew his first breath at Bignon, March 9th, 1749. He 
was born tongue-tied, with a twisted foot, and with two 
molar teeth already cut. The first-named peculiarity 
little indicated the future fame of the brilliant orator. 
When three years old, he was attacked with confluent 
and malignant smallpox. Some quack ointments were 
imprudently administered; the result was, that on re- 
covery his features were disfigured and deformed by 
huge and uneffaceable seams and furrows. At ten years 
of age, his life was in jeopardy from violent fever, the 
effects from which were neither slight nor transient. 
At fifteen he was placed at a military school in Paris. 
Here he became a proficient in the dead and living lan- 
guages ; but his favourite study was mathematics, united 



560 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

with architectural drawing. In his eighteenth year, 
under an assumed name, Mirabeau entered the military 
service as a volunteer. For about a year all went well. 
He then became the rival of his colonel in a love affair. 
Dissensions ensued. Very possibly, military authority 
was pushed to tyranny. At all events, his regimental 
duties became unbearable : he abruptly quitted his corps 
and fled to Paris. His father, never friendly to him, 
now interposed. Through his intervention, Mirabeau 
was sent a prisoner to a fortress in the Isle of Rhe. 
His wish was, to have banished his son to the pestilen- 
tial swamps of Surinam; but this the friends of the 
family overruled. Such was Mirabeau' s position at the 
age of twenty ! Released, by the good offices and fa- 
vourable report of the governor, from his prison in the 
Isle of Rhe, he was entered as second lieutenant in the 
Legion of Lorraine, and despatched to Corsica. In 1771 
a temporary reconciliation took place between the father 
and son. Mirabeau visited the marquis, who now con- 
sented that his first-born should assume the title of 
Count Mirabeau. 

In the summer of the following year, he married 
Mademoiselle de Marignane, an amiable young lady, 
and an heiress in prospective. His matrimonial life was 
unhappy. Extravagant propensities soon involved him 
in debt ; and his inflexible father, taking advantage of 
his embarrassments, obtained another lettre-de-cachet. 
Its effect was to compel Mirabeau to withdraw from his 
ancestral residence, the castle of Mirabeau, and to retire 
to Manosque, an insignificant town in its vicinity. 
Here he wrote his " Essay on Despotism." 

The marquis's animosity was still unappeased. Not 
content with his son's retirement at Manosque, he 
sought and obtained against him an interdict from the 
Chatelet at Paris. Nor was this all. A letter of exile, 
by the same active intervention, was procured, whereby 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 561 

Mirabeau was forbidden to pass the boundary of the 
town of Manosque, save under peril of severe punish- 
ment. To this alternative he subsequently subjected 
himself by avenging in the public road, some twenty 
miles away from Manosque, an insult offered to his sister 
by a dastard styled the Baron of Villeneuve-Moans. 
Him Mirabeau flogged soundly on the king's highway. 
The result was his arrest while attending the sick couch 
of his apparently dying child, followed by incarceration 
in the castle of If. Thither his wife declined accom- 
panying him. She preferred a residence at her father's 
mansion at Aix to sharing her husband's prison apart- 
ments at If. His pen again beguiled Mirabeau's weary 
hours. He wrote in his rock-prison the life of his daring 
grandfather, Jean Antoine de Mirabeau, who spoke his 
mind to the king (Louis XIV.) on the venality and 
licentiousness of his court. M. Dallegre, Mirabeau's 
keeper, won by the wit and frankness of his captive, re- 
laxes the severity of his treatment, and grants him many 
a welcome indulgence, — nay, more ; becomes interested 
in his fortunes, and endeavours to procure his release. 
The marquis learns this, and instantly transfers his son 
from If to the castle of Joux — an exchange materially 
for the worse in point of comfort and situation, and re- 
duces his allowance from 250/. to 50/. per annum. His 
talents again win for him the favour of the governor, 
who permits him to visit the neighbouring town, Pontar- 
lier. There he became acquainted with the aged Mar- 
quis de Monnier and his beautiful and youthful wife, — a 
couple paired, not matched — the former being seventy- 
five, the latter eighteen. The acquaintance issued in 
the elopement of the marchioness with Mirabeau. 

The guilty parties took refuge in Holland, and fixed 
their abode at Amsterdam. There, prompted by his 
necessities, Mirabeau, who had assumed the name of St. 
Mathieu, (from an estate of his mother's in Limousin,) 

24* 



562 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

sought literary employment. He had, however, been in 
Amsterdam more than three months before it was se- 
cured by him. Then it poured in; and by labouring 
incessantly from six in the morning to nine at night, he 
contrived to earn a louis per diem. But those were now 
tracking him whose search he was not destined long to 
escape. He had admitted at Amsterdam being the 
author of the " Essay on Despotism." This was well 
known in France to be Mirabeau's, and the secret of his 
retreat became at once divulged. M. Monnier sent en- 
treaties begging his wife to return, promising to forget 
and forgive everything ; and even offered money to the 
fugitives. Sophie declined the marquis's proposal; and 
he, irritated at her refusal, commenced proceedings 
against her and Mirabeau to regain his settlements and 
her dowry. They resulted in a decree of the bailiwick 
of Pontarlier, by which the male offender was pronounced 
" guilty of abduction and seduction/' condemned to be 
beheaded in effigy, to pay a fine of five livres to the king, 
and forty thousand livres to the Marquis de Monnier ; 
the adulteress, Sophie, was sentenced to perpetual im- 
prisonment in the Besancon house of correction, to be 
there shaved and punished like the females of the place, 
and to forfeit all her rights and privileges of every kind ; 
her marriage portion going to M. Monnier. 

At this in Amsterdam the fugitives smiled. But 
fiercer enemies were in hot pursuit. The Marquis of 
Mirabeau and the parents of Sophie had jointly resolved 
on terminating this criminal connexion and punishing 
the parties. The united efforts and united interest of 
Sophie's family and Mirabeau's effected a violation of 
international law ; a police officer, Brugnieres, was sent 
to Holland with letters of arrest, signed by Amelot and 
Vergennes ; and with instructions to seize the fugitives 
alive or dead. 

Of these proceedings Mirabeau, by some means, was 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 563 

secretly apprized. Having ascertained that his and his 
guilty companion's arrest was " fixed for the 15th of 
May, on the 14th they decided on disappearing from 
Amsterdam. The flight was doubly difficult and dan- 
gerous from Sophie's situation. In the evening, however, 
fearful of being seen together, Mirabeau left the house, 
and a friend was to have conducted Sophie by another 
road to an appointed rendezvous. Scarcely had he 
turned out of the Kalbestrand, ere tidings reached him 
that she had been arrested at the very moment of leaving 
the house. He flew back, and found the account to be 
true ; found, moreover, that his wretched and half- mad- 
dened companion was in the act of taking poison. Ap- 
pealing to her love for him, to her duty to their unborn 
child, Mirabeau at length succeeded in extorting from 
her a promise that she would abandon her intention; 
with the reservation, however, that, did she not hear 
from him in a certain time, death should end all love and 
suffering forever." 

And thus they parted ! amid sighs, and tears, and 
protestations ; amidst declarations of unalterable attach- 
ment and hourly remembrance, — to meet, after an inter- 
val of some years, as foes, with no other feelings than 
those of alienation, animosity, bitter and quenchless 
hatred; the conclusion, again and again exhibited, of law- 
less and unhallowed passion. 

Madame Monnier's first destination was St. Pelagie, 
changed subsequently to another and milder house of 
correction, in the Rue de Charonne at Paris. In this 
she was entered under the assumed name of Madame de 
Courviere, and removed from it, after the birth of her 
child, by her sorrowing parents to the convent of Gien, 
near Montargis; — not very far from Bignon. Mira- 
beau's destination was more severe. He was sent into 
the donjon of Vincennes, there to abide a long, and 
rigorous, and wearisome imprisonment. While here, 



564 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

among other questionable productions, he wrote those 
infamous letters, which one who has studied well his 
history thus severely condemns : — 

" The darker portion of Mirabeau's conduct relates to 
Sophie ; not to Madame de Monnier. When, under 
that name, he dragged her before the public, and in- 
dulged a loose and prurient fancy, in providing for the 
worst appetites of licentious minds, he became justly the 
object of aversion, and even of disgust ; and ranged him- 
self with the writers of obscene works, but took prece- 
dence of these in profligacy, by making his own amours 
the theme of his abandoned contemplations. It is the 
very worst passage in his history ; and it is nearly 
the only one which admits neither defence nor pallia- 
tion." — Lord Brougham. 

Three years rolled away. The ministry grew shy of 
the Marquis of Mirabeau's lettr es -de- cachet ; came to a 
conclusion that they were asked for rather too fre- 
quently; and ultimately refused further participation, 
direct or indirect, in his private persecutions. Earnest 
appeals in his son's behalf poured in upon the hard- 
hearted parent. Conscience smote him. He relented ; 
and on the 13th of December, 1780, after a captivity of 
three years and a half, Mirabeau's liberation from Vin- 
cennes was effected. The prison-portion of his impetu- 
ous life was ended. 

Months, many and tedious, elapsed before Mirabeau 
was received by his father. At length a reconciliation, 
apparently cordial and permanent, took place between 
these near relatives ; and the father and son went down 
together to Bignon. There a last interview took place 
between Sophie and Mirabeau — a painful and memora- 
ble interview. It seems that a short time previous to 
Mirabeau's release from Vincennes, Sophie's confine- 
ment had been materially mitigated, and she had been 
permitted to receive visitors. Among the latter was a 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 565 

Monsieur de Raneourt. Mirabeau's jealousy was in- 
stantly aroused ; and he avowed it in several angry and 
upbraiding epistles ; answered not by explanation and 
disavowal, but by recrimination and counter-upbraiding. 
Pending this state of mutual angry feeling, Dr. Ysabeau, 
the convent physician, proposed an interview, which was 
eagerly accepted. All intercourse between the parties 
being strictly prohibited, the meeting must unavoidably 
take place by stealth and in disguise. Dressed as a 
pedlar, with the doctor and a nun for witnesses, Mira- 
beau succeeded in reaching the cell of Sophie. It was 
four years and two months since they had beheld each 
other. Then they parted with deep and earnest vows 
of everlasting constancy and love. Now they met bitter 
foes ; sarcastic, suspicious, exasperated ; each breathing 
complaint and invective against the other ; till in mutual 
and ungovernable rage they separated, never on earth to 
meet again. 

In 1783 occurred Mirabeau's two duels with M. de 
GalifFet. In both encounters the Provencal landowner 
was wounded. The next year saw Mirabeau in 
Paris, but with finances so crippled and prospects so 
clouded, that we find him applying to his friend Cham- 
fort, for pecuniary aid ; and that gentleman, not having 
cash, instructing him to sell some wine of his, and make 
use of the proceeds. The same year, 1784, France being 
no longer a safe residence for him, he fled with Madame 
Nehra, Sophie's successor, to England, with the inten- 
tion of earning his subsistence by his pen. His stay 
extended to eight months. Finding his plan of support- 
ing himself in London by writing French books wholly 
visionary, he returned in March, 1785, embarrassed and 
desponding, to Paris. 

From this period, Mirabeau entered upon that course 
of intrigue, duplicity, and desperate action which made 
him one of the prominent actors in the early stages of 



566 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

the French Revolution. Our limits will not permit us 
to trace him through this period. Suffice it to say that 
he exhibited the same deplorable want of moral princi- 
ple which had marked his whole career. Talents and 
capacities of extraordinary mark combined with the utter 
destitution of every virtuous and honourable sentiment, 
make his name and memory infamous. 

The last months of his life were a round of unbridled 
licentiousness. His sister, Madame du Saillant, grew 
alarmed; and the more, because she distrusted the skill 
and experience of his medical adviser. 

In the middle of March his symptoms were aggravated 
by a tumultuous and exhausting banquet which he gave 
to a gay assembly, and where he indulged in unusual and 
imprudent conviviality. On Friday, the 25th, the debate 
on the regency closed; and on the 26th (Saturday) he 
went down to Argenteuil to direct the laying out of his 
new residence. While there on the 27th, he experienced 
a return of those excruciating internal pains which had 
more than once racked him, and which were now doubly 
formidable from the absence of all medical advice. 

Undeterred by suffering, he resolved to attend the 
Assembly on the Monday. On his way thither he found 
his strength so completely prostrated that he was obliged 
to rest at the rooms of his friend Lamarck. For nearly 
an hour he was in a state of semi-consciousness, and 
then pursued his route only by the temporary and de- 
ceitful aid procured by the unsparing use of strong 
stimulants. 

So sustained, he entered the Assembly ; spoke five 
times, and at considerable length ; then, having carried 
his purpose, and having seen his projects made law, 
staggered from the Hall. 

As he was descending from the Terrace of the Feuil- 
lans, leaning heavily the while for support on the arm 
of a young friend, M. Lacheze, a concourse of people 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 567 

gathered around him, some cheering him, some prefer- 
ring petitions, some asking questions, some gazing silently 
and wonderingly upon him. The noise and hubbub dis- 
tracted him, and he whispered faintly to his companion, 
" Take me hence ! I have need of repose." His wishes 
were attended to. 

The dying man then took a bath. Slightly refreshed 
by it, he went to the Opera. Many minutes had not 
elapsed before pain compelled him to retire. He could 
with difficulty descend the stairs, and had to be held up 
in the arms of his friends till his carriage could be found 
and driven round. He was then carefully placed within 
it for the last time. 

"After inconceivable efforts," says Cabanis, "he ar- 
rived at his home, in a most frightful state. I found 
him nearly suffocating, breathing with great difficulty ; 
the face swollen from the stoppage of blood in the lungs, 
the pulse intermittent and convulsive, the extremities 
cold, and himself making vain efforts to repress the cries 
his agony drew from him. Never, at the first sight, had 
any invalid appeared tome so decidedly death- stricken. 
My emotion made him perceive too well what I thought 
of his state. He said to me, ' My friend, I feel very 
distinctly that it is impossible for me to live many 
hours in this agony ; these sufferings cannot long con- 
tinue.' " 

Early on Tuesday morning (the 29th) his illness 
began to be rumoured over Paris, and a few citizens, on 
presenting themselves at his door to make inquiries, 
learned the astounding information, that he was not 
merely ill, but was actually dying. 

His last night on earth dragged heavily through, but 
at length came the dawn. As soon as day had broken, 
the windows were flung open, and the mild spring breeze 
stole in and fanned his feverish temples. 

"My friend," said he, addressing Cabanis, "I shall 



568 DEATH-BED SCENES. [PART II. 

die to-day. When one is in that situation, there re- 
mains but one thing more to do ; and that is to perfume 
me, to crown me with flowers, to environ me with music, 
so that I may enter sweetly into that slumber from 
which there is no awaking /" The sun now burst forth, 
and as he basked in his beams, he said, with ill-timed, if 
not irreverent familiarity, " If that is not God, it is at 
least his cousin-german !" 

He then exacted a promise from Cabanis, that he would 
not leave him till his death ; and added, " Pledge me 
your word that you will not make me suffer useless pain. 
I wish to be able to enjoy without drawbacks the pre- 
sence of all dear to me." 

" It was a sublime spectacle," says a spectator, " to 
witness the brilliant exercitations of his commanding 
intellect, and the general equanimity of his deportment, 
the moment after his severest paroxysms — he but assisted 
at his own dissolution !" It must be owned, however, 
that beneath the surface of his death-bed greatness there 
was concealed an awful tribute to the weakness of all 
philosophy merely mortal. Cabanis, the friend and 
physician, confesses that he was pledged to expedite 
Mirabeau's death by opium, the moment pain should 
become extreme, and recovery lie beyond a hope. This 
secret source of strength once touched, Mirabeau de- 
scends, as by magic, from his unchristian altitude. 

About eight, the death-agony commenced. His body 
was convulsed. He writhed, as though in frightful and 
agonizing pain. In dumb torture he signed for drink. 
Water, wine, lemonade, jelly, were offered; but refusing 
all that was offered, he made a motion for pen and ink. 
Supplied, he wrote the one word "dormir." He wanted 
the eternal sleep of opium ; but Cabanis affecting not to 
understand his meaning, he again took up the pen, and 
wrote the dubious, but terrible question, " Do you fear, 
then, that death, or that which approximates it, may 



SEC. V.] INSENSIBILITY IN THE HOUR OF DEATH. 569 

produce a dangerous sentence ?" Still not understood, 
or, at all events, not obeyed, he wrote the memorable 
words, preserved for us as the dying man penned them, 
"While it was thought that, opium might fix the malady, 
it was well not to administer it ; but now that there is 
no resource but in the great unknown, (the phenomene 
inconnu^) why not try it? Can you leave your friend 
on the rack, perhaps, through days ?" The overwhelmed 
Cabanis made poor answers. Promising laudanum, he 
wrote for a trivial composing draught. While awaiting 
it, uncertain w r hether it fulfilled, or not, the awful com- 
pact, pain and impatience gave back the dying man his 
speech, and he exclaimed, "My sufferings are intolera- 
ble ; I have within me a hundred years of life, but not a 
moment's courage. You are deceiving me," he con- 
tinued, as the messenger for the draught failed to 
return. 

He was assured that the most urgent instructions had 
been sent to the doctor's. 

" Ah, the doctors ! the doctors !" he exclaimed, in 
agony; and, turning to Cabanis, "Were you not my 
doctor and my friend ? And did you not promise to 
spare me the pains of such a death? Must I carry with 
me the regret of having confided in you?" 

Dr. Petit entered, and Mirabeau became additionally 
anxious about the opium. 

" Swear to me," said he eagerly to Cabanis, " that you 
will not tell Petit what you are preparing for me!" 
These were the last words of the great orator. 

The draught painfully- expected came at last. He 
snatched the vessel, and, drinking it off, turned on his 
right side with a convulsive movement, raised his eyes 
toward heaven, and died ! 

It was Saturday, January 2, 1791, about half-past 
eight, A. M., in the forty-second year of his age. 



BOOKS PUBLISHED BY LANE & SCOTT. 

Clark's (D. W.) Mental Discipline. 

Mental Discipline, with Reference to the Acquisition and Com- 
munication of Knowledge, and to Education generally. To 
which is appended a Topical Course of Theological Study. 
By Rev. Davis W. Clakk, M. A. Third thousand. 

18mo., pp.320. Muslin or Sheep $0 45 

This is a work that ought to be studied by every young person, 
and especially by students in our colleges and academies, by 
both school and Sunday-school teachers, and by young ministers. 
Part I. treats on the acquisition of knowledge. Part II. Com- 
munication of Knowledge. Part III. Characteristics of the Dis- 
ciplined Mind. 

No young man can adopt its counsels, and grow up an ordinary 
mind. — Rev. A. Stevens. 

One of the best works of the kind extant. — Prof. B. F. Tefft. 

It is destined to accomplish much in aiding to carry forward the 
cause of sound education. — Prof. Merrick. 

There are many who will yet feel themselves under lasting obli- 
gations to the author. — Rev. J. Crawford. 

One of the best books lately issued from the Methodist Episcopal 
press — a book which will be useful, permanently useful, and 
cannot be read without profit by any. — Prof. S. M. Vail. 

A book precisely of this character has long been wanted. The 
work is, in our judgment, really one of higher importance than 
any original work which has recently been issued from our press. 
— Dr. Peck. 

We cordially commend this little book. — Dr. Bond. 

We have neither time nor space to say all we might wish to say 
of this book. It is decidedly the best book of the kind we have 
met with. It condenses and combines what else it would require 
volumes to obtain; abounds with instructions as to mental 
improvement, and directions for amassing and communicating 
knowledge. We wish it could be placed in the hands of every 
student in the country — especially in the hands of every young 
minister. We beg our junior brethren to procure and study this 
work. Make it a pocket companion. It will be better than gold 
in your purse or pocket. It is the very book for a young minis- 
ter. — Richmond Christian Advocate. 

A Book that is a Book. — In this book we see thought — close, 
deep, condensed, powerful, original thought — well expressed, 
and certain to benefit those who examine. Almost, if not quite, 
every religious paper in the country has spoken highly in its 
favour. — Northern Christian Advocate. 

A charming book for students. Every young preacher ought to 
have it. — Pittsburgh Christian Advocate. 

No one can peruse it attentively without deriving much good, both 
as a student and public speaker.— -New- For h Evening Post. 



BOOKS PUBLISHED BY LANE & SCOTT. 

A valuable publication. It cannot be perused without profit. — 
Southern Christian Advocate. 

Students will find this book invaluable. — Literary Register. 

Let every young preacher remember it in his first order to the 
Book Concern. — Lebanon Journal, la. 

Just the book which thousands need. — Christian Advocate and 
Journal. 

Its practical rules are comprehensive, and are presented in forci- 
ble points of view. — Presbyterian. 

Clark's (D. W.) Methodist Episcopal Pulpit 

The Methodist Episcopal Pulpit. A Collection of Original 
Sermons. From living Ministers of the Methodist Episco- 
pal Church. Corrected and Revised by Bev. Davis W. 
Clark, M. A. With a Portrait of Bishop Hedding. Third 
thousand. 

12mo., pp. 521. Sheep $0 90 

Sheepextra 100 

This volume contains thirty-four sermons, from different preacher- 
of the M. E. Church, and they form a specimen of pulpit ability 
which will compare with any similar example from any other 
Christian sect of the country. The subjects are exceedingly 
varied, the modes of thinking and of style as much so, but they 
uniformly bear the stamp as much of excellence as of originality. 
Three of our bishops appear in the list. — Zion's Herald. 

The first sermon, by our old friend Dr. Simpson, is a specimen of 
Scriptural illustration at once beautiful and characteristic of 
the man. The two sermons by Prof. Whedon, on the subject of 
Baptism, are, in our estimation, unsurpassed by anything on 
that subject, in the same compass. If they are not good speci- 
mens of polemic preaching, we know not what is. — Pittsburgh 
Christian Advocate. 

We can say of most of them, that for depth of thought, cogency of 
reasoning, purity of diction, affluence of language, richness of 
imagery, beauty of illustration, earnestness of manner, and 
force of application, they will compare with any volume of ser- 
mons which has issued from the American press. — Christian 
Advocate and Journal. 

The authors of the sermons are so widely scattered in point of 
location, and so many of them are men whom the Church has 
delighted to honour, that there must be a charm about the book, 
aside from its intrinsic merits, which will awaken interest in 
the feelings of our people through the length and breadth of 
the country. But the book will be found to contain a rare body 
of divinity, and a fund of instruction, upon the great doctrines 
and duties of Christianity, rarely to be found within the same 
compass. — Methodist Quarterly Review. 



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